Midtown Masters

by Cara McKenna

  “Tease,” Meyer whispered.

  “I’ve never done this before.”

  “I know. And that’s so hot I’m losing my mind. Touch me.”

  This time, John didn’t obey. Not immediately. His thumb edged closer, closer, and his finger curled around the waistband of Meyer’s shorts. The heat was peeling off of him in waves. Coarse hair tickled John’s knuckles. He couldn’t believe this was actually happening. That he was actually about to touch a man, this way. And that it was a man he desired so badly it put every one of his film and television crushes to shame—

  Meyer grabbed John’s hand, turned it, pushed it low. The breath left John’s lungs in a rush as he felt the long, stiff, hot shape of another man’s cock fill his palm. The fabric still stood between them, but no matter—this was the most explicit thing he’d ever felt.

  Meyer grunted, guided John’s hand up and down in slow strokes. “Ah, fuck. You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this.”

  For me to touch you? Or to be touched by any man, for the first time in months? It didn’t matter. It only mattered that John was what Meyer was after. That he could give him what he needed.

  “What do you want from me?” John asked, feeling the rasp of Meyer’s cheek against his lips as he spoke.

  “I think you know.”

  “I watched the video,” he reminded him.

  “Then yes, you know. Can you give me that?” Meyer asked.

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Do you want to?”

  Again, John didn’t answer right away. Instead he stole his hand from Meyer’s grip, and slipped it down the front of Meyer’s shorts.

  “Fuck.” Meyer buried his face against John’s neck and his fingers dug hard into his arm. John barely felt it. The sensation of another man’s bare cock against his palm eclipsed everything.

  How utterly strange. Like touching himself, only not. The angle was wrong, and of course he couldn’t feel these slow, exploratory touches. Meyer was bigger than him as well, and that was mesmerizing. He’d have thought it would intimidate him, but the actuality was far from it. He felt powerful, gripping another man’s pleasure, steering it with every squeeze and stroke.

  Meyer’s breath seared his throat and his moans vibrated through John’s own chest. There was fumbling between them as Meyer pushed his underwear down. “Do you know what I imagined would happen, tonight?” he panted. “How I imagined this very moment going?”

  “No.”

  “I imagined telling you to do whatever you wanted—touch me, explore me, enjoy another man’s cock for as long as you wanted. Fuck.” He laughed, sounding at once amused and flustered. “I was going to volunteer to be your sex toy, John, but now I can’t see how I’m going to survive five minutes of this.”

  That powerful sensation bloomed wide, swallowing John up and seeming to leave another man in his place. A man with no doubts, no caution, only need. His hand worked Meyer with steady, gentle pulls, the same as he’d do for himself if he were trying to make the pleasure last.

  He told Meyer, “And I imagined I’d be a quaking wreck, stuttering as I fumbled my way through your various instructions.”

  “So did I. And I’m not too classy to admit it turned me on.”

  “If this goes where you want it to, I will need instructions.”

  “I’ll delight in issuing them. Would you like to hear the first one now?”

  Shit, what a question. John knew what Meyer really meant. When he asked that question he was really saying, Tell me now if we’re doing this or not.

  If it was a simple yes or no, the answer needed no thought. “Yes.”

  A smug and happy hmmm warmed John’s neck. “Funnily enough, the first one’s not for you. Suzy?”

  The fingers stroking John’s scalp stilled. “Yeah?”

  “You want to get me ready, darling?”

  “Always.” John felt her moving behind him on the bed.

  John thought he knew what this entailed. Unlike in typical porn, the Parkses did their prep on-stage, as it were, so it was no shock when Suzy rounded the bed with a bottle of lubricant in hand.

  So we’re really doing this.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  “Suzy knows what I need,” Meyer said to John, “plus if you stop touching my cock I’m going to die.”

  “That would be very sad.”

  At that Meyer snorted and smiled, pressed his face against John’s throat once more with a sigh. Earning such a reaction was as thrilling as the feel of this man’s erection in John’s fist.

  Suzy sat behind Meyer and he helped her tug his underwear down, then off. He propped his leg up and she uncapped the bottle. What came next, John had watched on video, but couldn’t see the details of now. She’d be slicking her fingers, stroking Meyer’s . . . Fuck, there was no right word for it. None that didn’t sound juvenile or pornographic. Entrance was wholly bereft of eroticism, but it would have to do.

  She’d be stroking his entrance. Working in one gleaming finger, then another. For a time, Meyer kissed John, but the effort soon fell apart as the pleasure of John’s hand or the ministrations of Suzy’s drove him to distraction, left him overwrought and moaning.

  “Good?” she asked. Her mouth was right at Meyer’s ear, voice a rousing mix of sweet and cruel.

  “Yes.”

  “What are you thinking about?”

  “Him.”

  John shivered.

  “Like this?” she asked, and whatever it was she did with her fingers drew a sound John had never heard from Meyer, a long, animal groan.

  He managed to hiss, “He’d be so much fucking deeper.”

  Heat flashed through John, left him reeling and made his hand lose its rhythm.

  “It’s been a while,” Suzy murmured.

  “Ages.”

  “Poor baby. You glad it’s John, after all this time?”

  “Fuck, yes.”

  “Been imagining this since the last time?”

  Meyer’s hand roamed down John’s arm, settled on his hip, squeezing. “You mean ever since I sucked his cock? I’ve imagined little else.”

  John felt dizzy.

  Whatever Suzy was doing, it had grown aggressive. He could feel the impact of it echoing through Meyer’s body, clashing with the pace of his own stroking hand.

  Meyer gasped, hitting some sort of wall. “Fuck, now. I need you right fucking now.”

  Another flash of that powerful drug. “Tell me what to do, and I’ll do it.”

  Suzy stepped away, leaving the bed.

  Meyer tugged at the covers hiding John’s cock. The condom was still half in place—he’d forgotten about it. Before there was even a chance to feel awkward, Meyer stripped it then wrapped his fingers around John’s erection. It was strange and wholly erotic, feeling this as his own fist held Meyer. Like nothing else, it rammed home the realization that he was with another man. Doing these things with another man.

  And I’m about to do so much more.

  “I’m not like Suzy,” Meyer said, working him in tight pulls. “I’m not going to take it slow or hold your hand.”

  “I wouldn’t want you to.” If he was going to fuck Meyer, he wanted that precise experience, undiluted.

  Meyer let John go. “Get a fresh one on.”

  John released him as well, turned over and grabbed a square from the side table. He got to his knees and rolled it on, and when he turned back, Meyer was on his hands and knees. The sight was arresting. The most beautiful male body he thought he’d ever seen, waiting there in the candlelight. Waiting for him.

  Suzy was waiting as well. She stood at the foot of the bed, then sat on its edge when John moved. He knelt behind Meyer, ran his palms over his back, his sides, his hips. Everywhere but. A tiny sliver of his hesitation was shyness, but the lion’s share was
anticipation.

  “You want me to beg?” Meyer’s head was hung and he sounded nearly exasperated. How astounding, to drive someone so composed to such desperation.

  “I may never do this again in my entire life,” John said calmly. “Forgive me for savoring.”

  “What do you want to get out of this?”

  John blinked, upended by that question. It was a good one. “I want the memory of it. And to please you. To be a good lover, maybe.”

  “Do you know what I want?” Meyer asked, raising his head, seeking John’s gaze over his shoulder.

  He swallowed, suspecting the answer was a simple. “To get fucked.”

  “Precisely.”

  All right, then.

  “John.” This from Suzy.

  He looked to his side, found her holding out the lubricant bottle. He took it.

  “For you,” she said.

  John opened the cap, squirted a glob onto his palm and stroked it down his erection. It felt so cool, contrasting with the fever crackling through his body.

  Suzy traded him the bottle for a washcloth and he wiped his slippery hand. And with that, there was nothing more to stall for.

  “Slow?” he asked, finally laying his hand on Meyer’s ass. He spread one cheek to the side and angled his crown. All at once his heart was a jackhammer.

  “Yeah. Slow till I tell you.”

  John pressed, met with resistance. A little harder, another press, and he could feel Meyer letting him in. A momentary panic cooled him as he realized that nothing he’d done with Suzy prepared him for this. It was different, and not just physically. With Suzy they’d been facing, and while he’d been on top, he hadn’t been the one driving.

  “Keep going.”

  Fuck it. He gave another push, found himself sinking deeper. The pressure was shocking.

  A suck of breath from Meyer. “Hold there. Christ.” He was breathing hard, ribs rising and falling, shoulder blades jutting. Sweat shone on his neck and made the hair at his nape cling. John could feel the most intimate and subtle muscles contracting around him, then relaxing. Meyer blew out a long breath. “Okay. More.”

  He pushed deeper, another inch, two. It felt good, but also not as he’d expected. Almost overwhelming. He wished he could thrust; he wanted the movement, wanted control over this sensation. The muscles under his hands clenched and softened in response to the invasion.

  As another inch penetrated, Meyer responded with a noise that was half moan and half laugh, a sound of hysterical relief, perhaps.

  “Fuck, you’re big, John. Take it slow, but give me more.”

  It wasn’t until John was seated nearly to the root that he realized he was rock hard. Obvious, of course, but he’d forgotten to worry that he might lose it.

  “Hold there,” Meyer said again. His breaths were harsh in the quiet room.

  “Good?” Suzy asked him.

  Another of those disbelieving little laughs, but no further reply. Meyer, at a loss for words? That had to be rare.

  “Ease out and get yourself wet again,” he finally said.

  John pulled out slowly, steadily, and even that ran through him like a bolt. The contrast as he slipped free from all of that tight heat . . . He could admit it, he wanted back in. He wanted more. Faster. He wanted selfish things he hadn’t anticipated.

  After another dose of lube, he pushed back inside. A little quicker, a little smoother.

  “Good. In and out, just like that. Let me get used to you, John.”

  The name jolted him, tightened his grip on Meyer’s hips.

  “Tell me it feels good.”

  “It does.” The pleasure was alarming, the act so perfectly obscene. John had never guessed his sex life could ever look so dark and raw and taboo. It made him feel high. Made him want more. In time he took that—moving quicker, the motions growing longer and easier. And suddenly it wasn’t only John driving the penetration. Meyer was pushing back to meet John’s hips, matching his rhythm, moaning in time.

  “Want me to stroke you?” Suzy asked Meyer.

  “Not yet. All I want to feel is this.”

  John wondered if he ought to have offered, though it sounded like a lot to coordinate. But then it flashed—the image of Meyer on his back in that video, Suzy penetrating him, his own pumping fist on his cock. John wanted to feel that, himself—feel that power throbbing in his hand and imagine how badly it must ache, imagine being the one to give it relief.

  As the moments became minutes, this lesson quickly became instinct. Second nature. John’s brain grew quiet while everything else rose—the blood rushing in his veins, the sighs and grunts tumbling from Meyer’s mouth, the sounds of flesh meeting flesh, and a clashing chorus of three people’s breath.

  “Ask me if I like it,” Meyer muttered, jerking John from the trance.

  “Pardon?”

  He craned his neck, catching John’s eyes with those cutting ones. “Ask me if I like it. Ask me how it feels. What I want. You said you wanted to be a good fuck, and that’s all you need to do to get there. Get feedback.”

  John had slowed, nearly stilled, but as Meyer looked forward once more, he began to move again—a bit gingerly, caught off guard by the order. Even frazzled, his body was aching, cock like iron. Eager to be what Meyer wanted, he asked, “Does it feel good?”

  “Fucking amazing,” came the answer.

  “What do you need?”

  “Faster. Rougher.”

  Rougher. The word gave John an unexpected thrill, a fresh zap of that addicting electricity. His hips took the request, eager to rush, eager for approval.

  “Grip my shoulder. Near my neck.”

  John took that order as well, leaning forward to hold Meyer as instructed. The muscle there was ropey and strong and he felt powerful himself, owning this man.

  “Other hand on my back. Pin me.”

  Again, John obeyed, at once the master and the pupil. He pressed his palm to Meyer’s back, added some pressure.

  “More.”

  He let that arm bear his weight, and tugged Meyer into the next push by his shoulder.

  “Yeah.”

  Just that tiny, harsh little word flashed him hot all over.

  “Fuck me. Nice and deep. It’s been too goddamn long.”

  Suzy spoke, her voice warm and teasing. “The strap-on and I will try not to take that personally.”

  “It’s different with a man,” Meyer said, and his back arched, as though he were luxuriating. “It’s not just his cock. It’s his hands and his voice. His fucking smell. Spank me,” he ordered John.

  He hesitated. “Hard?”

  “Hard. Leave a mark.”

  He freed the hand on Meyer’s shoulder, brought his palm down on his ass and earned a grunt, a suck of breath. The contact jolted him, as if he’d been the recipient of that strike.

  Meyer hissed out an exhalation. “Harder.”

  He gave it, answered by another grunt, then a sigh.

  “Good. Keep going.”

  This was so beyond John’s expectations, his imagination, his limits. But that was par for the course with this entire affair, perfect and scary. He lifted his palm, brought it down again, again, again, until Meyer was all but wailing and the length of his back gleamed with sweat.

  In John’s periphery, Suzy was moving. A glance told him her hand was between her legs, stroking. Her gaze moved from the point of penetration to John’s face, and a smile passed across her lips, sly and approving and unmistakably lustful.

  Meyer drew John’s attention back to their bodies. He dropped low, slowly, flat on his belly with one side of his face pressed to the covers, drawing John into a wide-legged kneel to keep up the motions. The penetration felt different. Tighter. Thrilling. Meyer stretched his arms back along his sides.

  “Hold my wrists,”
he ordered.

  John did, clasping each, adjusting his center of gravity, afraid to put too much pressure on Meyer’s arms. If the man protested, you couldn’t tell—his face was flushed, unmistakably excited.

  “Is this good?” John asked, remembering his lesson.

  “Yes. Just fuck me.”

  Assured, John let his thoughts fade, sinking deeper into his body. A rare sensation for a man whose brain was always on. He let his cock drive. Let the pleasure hit him full-on. His hips sped in response, seeking the friction. His hands grew slick around Meyer’s wrists. His heart hammered and his breath was short, high in his chest, his ears rang with the sounds of another man’s ecstasy, dark and hot as coals.

  John shut his eyes, and when they opened again, Suzy was joining them. She knelt at Meyer’s side, one hand pressing flat between his shoulder blades, the other splaying in his hair, then fisting.

  “That’s what you need, isn’t it?” she asked him. Her voice was low, mean, and Meyer moaned. “Sometimes you just need to get held down and fucked, don’t you?”

  Another moan, deep and guttural. John felt his excitement change. It mixed with something not unlike fear, though it flashed hot, not cold. He was having sex as he’d never pictured it, playing tourist in the bed of two people vastly kinkier than he could ever aspire to be. The thought gave him a flush of pride, yet more heat to send this fire high enough to lick the ceiling.

  “I bet your cock’s so hard it hurts,” Suzy told Meyer.

  Another wordless groan.

  “You want to come?” she asked him.

  “Not yet.” It sounded like a plea.

  “Not yet, but how?”

  “Ah. Fuck. Fuck me.”

  John kept it fast, made it even rougher. His own need was beginning to nag, and his control to fray. He was lost in the view. The taut and tensed expanse of Meyer’s back, the swell of his ass and the way John’s body jolted it with every thrust.

  Suzy spoke to Meyer. “I wish you could see him.”

  John glanced her way and found her smiling, eyes on him.

  “He looks so good, fucking you.”