Page 109 of Stolen Harmony
Rowan trembled, eyes wide, mouth parted, waiting for the next order. I met Tom’s gaze, then David’s—both of them just as hungry, just as lost in the dark thrill of it as I was.
Tom was the first to move. He gripped Rowan’s hair, guiding his face down into the thick bulge of his briefs, holding him there with gentle but unyielding pressure. “Go on, pretty boy. Breathe me in. Show us how much you want it.”
Rowan buried his face in Tom’s crotch, nose pressed against the straining fabric, inhaling deep. The sound he made was half-moan, half-desperate whimper, pure surrender. Tom groaned, his free hand tracing down Rowan’s neck, thumb stroking the damp hair at the base of his skull.
“Good boy,” Tom praised, his voice thick and shaky. “You like that, don’t you? Like Daddy’s scent, huh?”
Rowan nodded, nuzzling, rubbing his face from side to side as if trying to memorize the feel and smell of Tom’s cock through the cotton. He licked at the outline, tongue flattening along the head, savoring every second.
David was next, impatient. He hauled Rowan over by the shoulders, pressing him into his own lap. “You’re not done yet,” David said, rough and low. “Come on, give Daddy a sniff. Let me see how needy you are.”
Rowan obeyed instantly, pressing his nose deep into the musky heat between David’s thighs. He breathed in greedily, eyes fluttering shut, letting the scent and the weight of David’s cock through the briefs flood his senses. David’s handfisted in Rowan’s hair, holding him there just a second longer, grinding up into his face.
“That’s it, good boy,” David muttered, voice breaking. “You’re filthy for it, aren’t you? Love Daddy’s cock, love the way we smell. Such a desperate little thing.”
Rowan whimpered again, tongue darting out to lap at the damp spot, lost in submission, the praise making him melt.
My own control snapped. I grabbed Rowan by the jaw, pulling him back to kneel between my legs. “You haven’t had enough yet, have you?” I taunted. “You want all of us, don’t you?”
“Yes, Daddy. Want you—all of you. Please.”
I shoved his face down, grinding him into my cock, forcing him to inhale, to rut against the ache in my briefs. He pressed his nose hard, mouthing the length, whining as I held him there.
“Breathe me in, baby. Let it fill you up. You love being our toy, don’t you?”
“Yeah—God, yeah, I love it,” Rowan babbled, lost to it, shuddering with every word.
I ran my hand over his head, thumb stroking his cheek as he mouthed and licked and rubbed himself raw on the outline of my cock. Tom and David crowded in close, their hands stroking down his back, caressing, gripping, encouraging him with low, filthy praise.
“Such a perfect slut,” Tom murmured, watching Rowan’s lips work over my cock. “Takes what he’s given, so grateful for it.”
“Never seen anyone so desperate,” David added, a note of awe in his voice. “You look so fucking pretty like this, baby. Ruined and happy.”
Rowan moaned, grinding his own cock against the mattress, desperate for friction. We let him linger, kept him there—pushed his face into the heat of our cocks, made him breathe us in, taste us, worship us.
He was gasping, glassy-eyed, gone. I tipped his face up, catching his gaze, and bent to press a filthy kiss to his spit-slicked mouth.
“That’s our good boy,” I said, pride and hunger tangled in my chest. “Now show us how grateful you are. Strip them. Slowly. I want you to savor every inch.”
Rowan nodded, breath coming in ragged, shallow gasps, the need shimmering off his skin. He crawled first to Tom, settling between his spread knees. The room was quiet except for our breathing and the low rasp of fabric against skin. Rowan’s hands moved up Tom’s thighs—broad, powerful legs, lightly dusted with dark hair. Tom’s briefs strained against his cock, already leaking, a thick wet patch spreading at the head.
Rowan’s fingers slipped under the waistband, drawing them down inch by inch, revealing the length of him: Tom was thick and uncut, a heavy curve that rested on his thigh, the foreskin pulled back just enough to expose the swollen head—flushed deep red, veins ridged and pronounced, glistening with precome. The smell was sharp, musky, the kind of scent that only got stronger as Rowan leaned in and breathed him in, eyes fluttering half-closed in bliss.
Rowan wrapped one hand around the base, stroking slow, worshipful, his thumb teasing at the slit. He mouthed along the shaft, lips dragging across velvet skin, tongue tracing the thick vein beneath. Tom groaned, fisting the sheets, hips jerking as Rowan nuzzled into his balls, sucking one into his mouth before letting it pop free with a wet, obscene sound.
He worked his way back up, lips gliding over the crown, tongue flicking at the salt-tinged fluid beading at the tip. Rowan looked up, meeting Tom’s eyes, then swallowed him down—slow, careful, taking him inch by inch until his nose pressedagainst Tom’s belly, breath shuddering through his whole body. Tom gasped, fingers threading into Rowan’s hair, holding him there.
“Jesus, you’re… fuck, you’re incredible,” Tom choked out, hips trembling with restraint. “Don’t—don’t stop.”
Rowan pulled back, sucking hard, then dove in again, greedy and desperate, cheeks hollowing, spit shining on his lips. He bobbed his head, moaning around the fullness, letting Tom’s cock fill his mouth until he was choking on it, tears stinging his eyes. He loved it—lived for it—and every filthy, eager sound went straight to my cock.
When Rowan finally let Tom slip free, strings of saliva clung to his lips and chin. He didn’t wipe them away. He turned, glassy-eyed, to David.
David was watching with a hunger I’d never seen on him before—his usual calm shattered, hands flexing at his sides, knuckles white. Rowan grinned, wild and unsteady, and reached for David’s waistband. David lifted his hips in offering, letting Rowan strip him slow, exposing thick thighs, the muscular curve of his ass, the impressive bulge straining against black boxer-briefs.
Rowan dragged the fabric down, revealing David’s cock—long and straight, a dusky flush along the shaft, the head a perfect pink with a bead of precome already pearling at the tip. He was cut, cock heavy and proud, balls tight and full beneath. The scent was earthier, darker, a deep male musk that filled the room as Rowan leaned in and licked a stripe from root to crown.
David hissed, hips rocking, one hand landing firm on the back of Rowan’s neck. “Open up, baby,” he rumbled, voice wrecked.
