Лорел Гамильтон - A Stroke Of Midnight

“Raise up, Merry,” Galen said, “let him know where he’s supposed to be.” His voice and face were gentle when he said it, as if he’d picked up on Kitto’s nervousness. Galen and I had kept our nights in Los Angeles to ourselves, so I’d really never seen him interact in an intimate setting with any of the other men. You can learn a lot about a man in the bedroom when it’s not just two, but more. Someone who refuses to share, well, that tells you something about a man, too.

I raised up on my elbows. “Come, Kitto, let me rest my head in your lap.”

He moved behind me, still uncertain, as if he expected one of the other men to protest. He settled behind me with his legs folded tailor fashion. I did not lay my head in his lap immediately, but bowed my head backwards so I could sweep my hair across his groin. I trailed my hair back and forth until he made noises for me.

I laid my head in the cradle of his legs, and found his sex pressed against the top of my head. Interesting, but his knees were also higher than my face. I rubbed my head against him like a cat. His breathing sped for me, but it wasn’t going to work as a prop for Galen.

“Um,” Galen said.

Nicca said, “What if Kitto almost lies under Merry, with her head resting on his stomach?”

We tried it. It took some maneuvering, especially to find a comfortable way for Kitto’s legs to be underneath me. Nicca suggested that Kitto turn over on his stomach, which probably would have been easier, but I vetoed it. I wanted the press of him against my head. I wanted not just Kitto’s body, but a very specific part, to be my pillow. I wanted the sensation of it, and I wanted to give Kitto at least that much. He’d given up his place for intercourse, and for oral sex. He deserved at least to be touched.

So I lay back against the line of Kitto’s body, and my head was cradled on a pillow that was so warm, so firm, so erotic. I rubbed my head against that firm pillow, and Kitto cried out.

“A little less body language, Merry, or he’ll go before anyone else,” Galen said, but he smiled when he said it, shaking his head.

I stopped rubbing, and just lay there with my head pressed against Kitto. “What?” I asked.

“Just watching how happy that made you.”

“Do you have a problem with it?” I asked.

“No,” he said, and grinned suddenly, “and I can prove it.” He crawled to us, and arched his body above my face, knees on one side, hands on the other. I wrapped my hands around him, and squeezed gently. It brought his breath out in a shuddering laugh. “Stop that.”

“Why?” I asked, and put my other hand at his balls, cupping them, while I stroked along the length of him. I’d touched Galen hundreds of times by now, but I never quite got over the marvel of being allowed to touch him. I think it was because I’d wanted him long before it had occurred to me to want any of the other guards. They had been untouchable, and almost invisible to me, as I’d been to them. But Galen, he had always been real to me.

He looked at Nicca and said, in a voice that couldn’t quite control itself, “I’d hurry if I were you, Nicca. She is so not going to behave herself.”

Nicca gave that uniquely masculine laugh. “I’m not finishing until she does, I’ll warn you of that now.”

I ran my thumb over the round tip of him, and rubbed my head against Kitto at the same time. Galen shuddered for me, and Kitto made another satisfying cry. “We’ll do our best,” Galen said. He gazed down at me, smiling, eyes a little wide. “Is this a test of how much control we have?”

“No,” I said.

“You’re mad because I’ve said no to this for so long, aren’t you?”

I thought about that for a second or two, then frowned. “Maybe, I guess, yes. I’m sorry. I want this to be about joy, not pettiness.” My hands started to fall away from him, but he caught my wrist with one hand.

“Do your best, or your worst, and so will we. I’m sorry I denied you any part of me. I promise it won’t happen again.”

“Good,” I said, and I pulled him down toward me. He didn’t fight me. He just readjusted his hands and knees, and finally his hips until I could guide him between my lips. He was so full, so thick, that I had to open my mouth wider than was comfortable to let him push his way deeper inside. He pushed until he found the back of my throat. I forced myself to relax as he eased himself past that point of comfort. I loved the feel of a man so deep, but it was an acquired talent. I was blessed with no gag reflex, but there were other problems with the well-endowed. Breathing for one, and just finding an angle so they could fuck you but not hurt your throat. Badly done deep-throating gave an entirely new meaning to having a little sore throat. I moved my head, just a little, my head rocking gently on Kitto’s body, as I worked with Galen to find that special position. I knew from experience that once I got excited enough I would have less trouble, that nothing would hurt while I was doing it, so I worked to make sure things didn’t hurt later either. Galen was above me, truly trying to mouth-fuck me. It wasn’t the same as going down on a man from other positions, because they had more control than you did. And they could not feel your body, as you felt it. They could not know when you could draw breath, or swallow, or when you needed to do either. I was trusting Galen to be gentle. I was depending on it.

He began to use his hips more, so that at the end of the thrust he was down my throat. I timed my breathing for when he was higher in my mouth, and swallowed about every other stroke. I moved my hands up his body until I found his testicles, so I could play with them as he went in and out.

“I take that as a yes,” he said, in a voice that still sounded like his own.

I gave a small nod with him still in my mouth. I didn’t want to move too much because we’d worked so hard to find just the right angle to let him do this. Galen had more length than most men that I’d let into this position. Kitto would have been more comfortable for it. But once Galen offered, I wasn’t going to say no. I trusted him not to get carried away and hurt me. I wasn’t sure I’d have trusted any of my other guards, except, perhaps, Nicca.

But Nicca had other duties tonight. His hands touched my thighs, and that one small touch drew a small sound from me. I think Galen took the sound for his doing, because he began to use his whole body, thrusting himself completely into my mouth, so that his balls slapped against my face. I put my hands on his thighs, not to caress, but to hold on.

My head moved with every stroke, and that made me rub against Kitto. He was like muscled silk against the side of my face.

Nicca pushed himself against my opening. He slid himself in slowly, one inch at a time. His voice came hoarse. “So wet.”

Galen hesitated with his body plunged deep inside my throat. “Nicca, hurry, Goddess, hurry.” He drew himself upward, and I had to take an almost gasping breath at the farthest edge of his stroke.

Nicca plunged himself inside me all at once, using the wetness that he’d made.

“Consort, but I love it when she feels like this,” he said.

“Like what?” Galen asked.

“Tight and wet.”

“Oh, God, yes,” Galen said. “Yes.” His body took on a more urgent rhythm, and I had to simply open my mouth wide, and trust that he would not hurt me. I was having trouble finding enough time between thrusts to both swallow and breathe. Even without a gag reflex I was fast approaching a point where I would have to make him stop long enough for me to catch up.

Nicca had found a rhythm that was faster, harder than any I’d had from him before, but he stayed low on his knees, so that his legs were spread wider. His hands were on my legs, holding them at almost a forty-degree angle. I would have told him to let me put my legs down, because from here his angle would be shallow, but once he slid himself inside me, I didn’t want to move. It was exquisite. He slid only the front part of himself inside me, but every shallow stroke took him over that spot, that infamous g-spot, and something about his position, or mine, was perfect.