Goldilocks and His Three Bears (9 page)

Scott could see the color rising in Brian's cheeks, see him breathing harder. His eyes were downcast still, but he had to see that big cock waving mere inches from his nose.

“Do you want to suck my cock, boy?” asked Paul, his voice cold and stern.

“Yes, sir,” said Brian, and he wet his lips.

Paul teased Brian for only a second, painting his lips with the head of his drooling penis. Brian seemed to almost tremble with anticipation as Paul sheathed his prick and then fed it into Brian's eager mouth.

“Make me wet,” said Paul.

Boy, you'd think Brian was a starving man and Paul was filet mignon
. Well, okay, Scott could understand that. It was a pretty cock. Scott had always thought so. He tipped his head, considering it. He'd sucked it a few times himself and licked his lips at the memory. The tats at its base were really only visible when it was fully erect, and they glistened, the reds and greens much brighter when coated in saliva.

Jim's hands were over his abdomen now, fingers pushing into his belly, skating farther down. Scott twisted to face Jim, sliding to his knees next to the bed, his mouth finding that thick cock almost instinctively.

Jim made an appreciative noise and leaned back on his elbows, legs spread. Watching Brian and Paul had made Scott pretty damned horny. So in no time he was sucking Jim deep, snorting, his nose pressing into the man's pubes like a pig hunting for truffles, those big sacs tight against Scott's chin, a hand against his ear, the fingers clenching and relaxing.

“Stop,” said Paul's voice. And Scott did. Damn it.

Jim's hand was on his head. Scott looked up and into Jim's face. He looked pretty damned blown away. Well, that was gratifying.

“Stand,” said Paul, next to them.

Scott and Jim both turned their heads to watch as Paul helped Brian to stand and walk to the bed. Paul directed Brian to kneel on the bed, hands behind him, cheek turned on the pillow, cute little butt high in the air. And then Paul drew out that lassolike thing and tied Brian's wrists and forearms together. Right up to the elbows. While he was doing it, every now and then, Scott saw Paul let the lacings slide across Brian's hole. Every time he did it, Brian quivered all over and pressed his lips together against whatever sound was trying to escape from his mouth.

From the angle at which he knelt, Scott could see the cock ring on Brian, his dick straining and swollen above it. His balls kept jerking up like they wanted to come, and his friend was covered now with a fine sheen of sweat. Paul finished restraining him and then teased that pretty hole with his penis a few times.

“What do you say, Brian?” he asked silkily.

“P-p-please, sir,” moaned Brian. “P-please fuck me, Daddy.”

Paul shoved himself in up to the hilt. Brian's head arched back, eyes squeezed closed, whole body seeming to open to the invasion.

Lord
. Scott moaned and felt himself pulled up onto the bed, felt Jim's mouth covering his, felt Jim's hand guiding Scott's fingers to wrap around Jim's fat cock, felt Jim stroking Scott as Scott stroked him.

And then his mind was filled with only him and Jim, tongues twisting around each other, hands and cocks bumping as they stroked. With that larger-than-life porno-movie slap of flesh two feet away, with Paul's breath coming hard and fast.

Brian cried out against the mattress.

“No,” said Paul, still fucking.

Scott heard Brian whimper.

“Gonna come,” whispered Jim against Scott's ear, a second before the big body in his arms tensed and the cock in his hand bucked and spurted.

Scott sort of drowned in his own climax, and when he found himself, moments later, he was on his side, held in Jim's big arms, as they watched Paul's muscular back arch and freeze. Scott'd swear the snakes there gaped their venom-dripping jaws wider, and then Paul's entire body relaxed.

Paul backed up, drawing himself out of Brian, who still knelt, quivering and fighting his whole body.

Scott saw Paul manipulate something on his friend's body, and the cock ring hit the mattress.

“Come,” said Paul quietly.

And Brian did. Hard. Great spurts hit the mattress, his whole body shaking.

Paul rapidly untied the rest of Brian's restraints, slipping the harness from Brian's now pliant body and covering his face with kisses. Brian wrapped his arms around Paul and buried his head in his neck.

“You may speak,” said Paul.

“Are we out of the scene, Daddy?” Scott heard Brian ask very softly.

“If you want,” said Paul, his hands gentle, his mouth on Brian, full of love.

“I love you, Paul,” said Brian. And they kissed.

There was a sort of approving rumble in the chest of the man who held Scott, and Jim's hands held him just a little tighter.

From the cradle of Paul's arms, Brian looked up at his friends. His eyes were wide and blue, his hair tousled and boyish.

“Are you okay, Scott?”

Scott was floating, rocking in Jim's arms. He nodded.

A brilliant smile lit Brian's face. “You enjoyed that, huh?”

“Wouldn't be any use in denying it,” said Scott.

Jim's mouth against his neck. Lips on his ear. “Do you need anything, Scott?”

Scott snuggled a little closer to Jim. “I'm good.”

Brian gave Scott a what-do-you-think look.

“Okay,” said Scott. “That wasn't so bad.”

Scott lobbed the football across the yard straight into Brian's waiting arms. “I'm worried about Jim,” he said.

Brian's spiral was a hot little rocket, thought Scott, taking it in the chest with an
oof
of air expelled. If he were bigger and meaner, he could have played professional football.

“What do you mean?” asked Brian worriedly.

“Ah, you know. He seems spacey. Spacier,” said Scott. “Take it back.” And he managed a pretty decent long throw so that Brian had to sprint to the fence to catch it.

Brian jogged up to him, tossing the football underhand, and said, “Did you talk to him?”

“Jim doesn't like to talk about himself, Brian. He talks about you, or me, or the mailman. But he won't talk about himself. Haven't you noticed that?”

Brian considered. “I guess I had. I hadn't given it much thought. You like him, huh?”

“He's a good guy.” Scott turned the football in his hands, fitting his fingers over the stitching.

“You guys've been spending a lot of time together,” Brian observed.

Scott shrugged. “I guess. Go out long again, Bri. I like to see that pretty ass running.”

Brian laughed and headed back across the lawn at a dead run.

“Hey, Momma Bear.” Jim stopped washing dishes and clasped the hands that encircled his waist.

“Hi, Brian.”

Brian stepped around and snuggled up into his Momma's warm embrace. “Mmm, you smell like something good.”

Jim chuckled. “Made sausage pizza for dinner.”

Everything Momma cooked ended up scenting his beard. Brian buried his nose in it and wiggled the rest of his body into more of Momma's nooks and crannies.

Jim petted his hair contemplatively. “How are you?”

“Mmm. Good.” Brian's raised his face. “You?”

Jim's eyes had that vague look. “Fine.”

Brian studied him. “You sure?”

Jim nodded, his lips smiling, but his brows frowning. “Sure I'm sure.”

The next morning he was gone.

“Damn it all to heck.” Scott threw his shoe at the railing. “Can't get the damned thing unlaced.”

“Here, let me help you.” Brian ran over and saved Scott's running shoe from falling into the bushes. He sat down and began plucking at the knotted laces.

“Don't bother,” sulked Scott. “Don't feel much like running today.”

He lowered his chin to his knees and glowered in the general vicinity of the front yard.

“Why'd he go?” The man had been in a foul temper ever since they'd woken and found Jim off on one of his unexplained trips.

“He just goes.” Brian shrugged. “Paul says Jim's always done this.”

“I know, I live here too. What I want to know is why the hell did he go this time?” He kicked something and sat back, arms folded and lip in a full pout.

Brian sat looking at him, no idea what to say.

“I have a two-week run starting tomorrow,” said Scott. “It would have been... civil for a man to leave a forwarding address. Or a note.” He jumped to his feet and trotted into the house, slamming the door behind him hard enough that the windows rattled.

When Scott left on his latest trucking gig, Brian and Paul had the house to themselves. The place seemed huge and empty to Brian. He would find himself wandering into Jim's room or Scott's, and standing there staring and wondering what he'd gone in there for.

But he and Paul were able to stabilize their relationship, establish rules that had been liquid before, and give Brian that peace he craved.

“Do you need help studying for your sociology test?”

“Yes.” Brian brought the book back and handed it to Paul where he sat in the big leather chair. “Will you quiz me?”

He curled up on the floor at Paul's feet, a place he had gravitated to at some point quite naturally, and waited for Paul to find the chapter's questions.

Paul looked down at him, eyes glowing with approval. “Your hair is so much longer.”

Brian smiled, warmth in his cheeks. His curls had grown enough that they'd become ringlets. Paul allowed him to wear his hair in a ponytail outside, so that he'd look more masculine, but indoors Brian wore his hair loose and tousled around his face. He loved the way it felt, silky soft on his neck. He loved the way it felt, also, when his Daddy buried his hands in it and took his mouth with that long prick. He licked his lips and swallowed hard at the thought of it.

Paul cleared his throat. “Concentrate, Brian.”

Brian flushed again and pointed his nose at his textbook. “Yes, sir.”

Paul reached over and touched Brian's head. “It's nice just the two of us sometimes, isn't it?”

“Sometimes. You know what? I think it hurt Scott's feelings when Jim left.”

“Really?” Paul stroked Brian's hair. “Hmmm.”

“Why does he just go like that, Paul?”

“He's never told me, hon. Something's eating at the man, though. And sometimes he just can't take it, and he has to go.”

“I miss him when he goes,” said Brian. “I think Scott misses him too. And I don't think Scott is used to missing people.”

Paul smiled, curling gold hair around his finger. “I think you might be right, Brian.”

“Good morning.”

Brian went right up on his toes and yelped with delight. “Momma Bear!” He hurtled his entire body at the man who stood in the middle of the kitchen.

Jim smelled like pine needles and pot. His beard was trimmed, Brian noticed, snuggling and petting, burying his face and hands in his Momma Bear as if he could find out where he'd been just by smell.

Jim chuckled and returned the caresses, giving Brian a big hug that lifted him off his toes. The embrace led to a kiss, and then Brian was against the wall, Jim urgently grinding against him.

“Maybe you should take that to the bedroom,” said an amused voice behind them. Paul stood in the doorway, wearing only wet hair and boxers, towel in hand. “Welcome back, Jim.”

And then Brian and Jim were on the water bed, rolling, Brian's hands seeming to move without conscious thought, stripping that big body and grasping that thick prick.

Jim moaned and arched back, big sacs tightening already. From the nightstand, he grabbed a condom packet and ripped it open.

“Let me.” Brian snatched it from him. He quickly peeled his shorts off and jumped onto the bed. “You lie there.”

He slid the condom down over Jim's cock and then, with little preparation, lowered himself as well. Jim was so hard, that fat cock was like a marble post. Jim lay back, arms and legs spread, and moaned.

Brian had forgotten how wide Jim could spread him, how good it burned. He panted and rocked, digging in his nails and remained there even when Jim shuddered all over— like a fucking earthquake, wailing— and came.

Still seated, Brian could feel that thick penis still half-hard inside him. He began stroking himself, his other hand painting lazily through the hair on Jim's chest.

“I missed you, Momma,” he whispered.

Jim's eyes opened to dark slits. His chest still heaving, he watched Brian.

“Scott missed you too,” said Brian, and then the urgency caught him and he started stroking faster. “Momma?” Jim's hand joined Brian's, took over as Brian writhed and finally shot across his chest.

Then there was cuddling. Jim went to take a shower and came back out to the kitchen, where Paul was making them all breakfast. He walked up and encircled his friend's waist. “Hey there.”

They kissed. Brian put down his spoon and watched that.
Wow, pretty
. “Hey!” he said, and when they turned toward him, he waved his spoon.

“Brian looks well,” said Jim, his eyes warm as they appraised him.

“Mmm,” Paul agreed happily. “I'm afraid I spoil him.”

“No you don't,” protested Brian immediately.

Both men laughed.

“So, where's Scott?” asked Jim casually enough. He frowned with interest at an invisible spot on the counter and rubbed it with a towel.

“He had a gig,” said Brian. He poured more orange juice into his glass.

“Ah.” That damned spot wouldn't come out apparently. Jim rubbed at it harder.

“He'll be back in a few days, I think,” said Paul. Brian noticed his Daddy's eyes had that deep, deep look they got when he was thinking. He slapped Jim on the back. “But he carries his cell phone. Why don't you call him?”

“Huh?” Jim's eyes went wide. “Oh, no... ” He rubbed at his neck. “I can wait until he gets back.”

Brian and Paul exchanged a look.

Brian chuckled. “I've lost five pounds since you left, Momma. How about some of those pancakes?”

“Coming right up,” said Jim.

A week later, they were relaxing in the living room. All three on the big leather couch, Jim and Paul on either side of him, Brian happily being a Brian sandwich, when the front door rattled and Scott walked in.

Brian wriggled out of his spot and bounded across the floor to his friend. “Welcome home,” he said, giving him a big hug and then an even bigger kiss.