Page 16 of The Menagerie

“Think he’s ready to take the first dick tonight?” someone from up front asks.

“Hell yeah,” someone from behind replies.

“I got dibs,” Shortstop says, climbing onto the bed from where he’d been standing on the side, lazily making out with the frat boy, Leg Day. His dick is pretty average in length, thickest around the middle, but his balls are large and hang low between his legs.

“’Bout time,” Malcolm grumbles.

He pulls off the cocks he’s been sucking and jerking and sits back on his heels. No sooner than his ass touches his ankles, he’s flipped over onto his back and yanked down to the edge of the bed.

Shortstop slides up behind Malcolm’s spread legs, lubing his cock with one hand and fingering Malcolm with the other.

“Ready, baby?” he asks, rubbing the head of his cock over Malcolm’s hole.

“Call me baby again ’n you’ll be fuckin’ your hand tonight.”

Rowan snorts.

“You got it, man.”

With that, the man presses his dick in slow, but Rowan’s eyes snap to Malcolm’s face and sees his eyes roll back before they flutter closed. Like he’s a junkie getting a desperately needed fix after going through the beginnings of withdrawal. He bites his bottom lip, his two front teeth the slightest bit longer than the rest of them, and Rowan shouldn’t find it cute, not when Malcolm’s flushed and getting fucked open, but he does.

“Fuuuuck that’s good,” Malcolm moans.

Rowan can’t be bothered to figure out who’s speaking when the men around him spew all sorts of filth about how Malcolm looks, but he finds it hard to disagree with any of them.

“Look at how good he takes dick.”

“C’mon, fuck him, he’s been desperate for it all night.”

“Can’t let his mouth and hands go to waste.”

The guy fucking him picks up the pace, hips slapping lewdly, punctuated only by Malcolm’s sharp pants. Until the Shirley Temple guy straddles his shoulders and pushes his cock into his mouth, the sounds now little more than muffled whimpers. The Van Damme and The Rock look-alikes kneel on either side, and Rowan can’t see clearly from where he is, but he sees Malcolm’s arms move, and the men throw their heads back, evidently both being jerked off simultaneously.

And fuck if that isn’t the hottest thing ever.

Rowan’s watched a lot of porn. Been to a lot of clubs. Fucked a lot of people. But he never realized how loud sex could be, especially in as large a group as this. Moans and grunts and skin slapping andYeahs andFuck yeahs andThat’s its fill the air in a filthy cacophony of noise that equally turns Rowan on and annoys him.

Annoys only because he wants to hear more of Malcolm. His sweet little gasps and breathy moans as he’s being filled from both ends. And Rowan doesn’t know how sensitive Malcolm is, but he dips his head to Malcolm’s chest and sucks a pert nipple into his mouth, the sharp inhale he hears over the din answer enough. He tweaks and pinches Malcolm’s other nipple, alternating between teasing it and squeezing his pec, reveling in how nicely it fits in his hand.

In seemingly no time at all, Shortstop gasps, “’M gonna come. Fuck, man, can I come in you?”

Malcolm pushes the guy out of his mouth. “You fuckin’ better.”

“Shit, shit,shit—” he gasps, Rowan lifting his head up from Malcolm’s chest to see the man’s hips stutter as he comes with a long groan.

“Fuck yeah, fill him up.”

“First of many tonight!”

“Best cumdump in all’a Boston.”

As all the men around them chime in, the white guy Malcolm had dubbed Tweedle Dum (or Dee) grunts from the side of the bed, furiously jerking his cock as he comes on the leather pad.

Malcolm must see it, and he doesn’t sound happy about it. “Jesus. If you ain’t gonna fuck me, at least jerk off on me.”

The guy has the decency to look sheepish. “Sorry, man. You’re fuckin’ hot.”

“No shit, Sherlock. Better get it up again before the night’s over.”

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