Bullet

43
NORMALLY I HAVE trouble getting naked in front of a stranger, but Mephistopheles was so unembarrassed, so totally at home with it all, that it was almost impossible to be uncomfortable around him. If he honestly had as few hangups as it seemed, he’d be damn near refreshing.
The clothes came off, and he made good on his offer. Some men, like some women, will go down on someone, but they do it as if it’s a duty, something that’s expected, not something they enjoy. The new man closed his eyes and treated Asher’s body the way he’d treated touching our scars, like he wanted to feel every texture change in the other man’s body. He sucked, rolled, lipped, kissed, and just enjoyed everything he could do with Asher.
It was only when Asher shuddered, spine bowing, head thrown back against the pillows that Mephistopheles raised his face up and looked up the long line of Asher’s body. He drew his mouth off of him with a smile, hand still wrapped round the base of his penis. “You taste close.”
Asher could only nod.
Mephistopheles looked at the three of us on the other side of the bed. “Why are you just watching?”
“I like to watch,” Nathaniel said.
“I wanted to watch Asher’s reactions to what you were doing,” I said.
Micah said, “I knew they wanted to watch.”
He grinned at all of us, his hands still playing around Asher’s body so that he kept him long and hard, and didn’t lose any ground. “Trade me,” he said.
Micah and I blinked at him. I said, “What?”
Nathaniel said, “Okay.” He moved from between us and crawled toward them. I was beginning to get the idea that maybe Nathaniel was more comfortable with a lot of things than we were, but without anyone else in the bed that comfortable, he’d been gentle with us.
Micah put me very firmly in front of his body. I got the distinct impression that it was one thing for Nathaniel to have crossed certain bridges after two years, but a different issue for a strange man. I would have said I was projecting, but the firm grip he had on my shoulders, and the fact that he stretched my body down the length of his as he lay back against the bed, both mirrored what Jean-Claude and Richard had been doing with Envy, and used my body as a happy shield.
I was caught between watching Mephistopheles crawling to us, nude and erect for the first time, and Nathaniel settling himself between Asher’s legs. I watched Nathaniel’s mouth slide over Asher, and felt the sight of it tighten things low and hard in my body. I’d enjoyed seeing Mephistopheles go down on Asher, but I’d enjoyed Asher’s reactions to it more. But watching Nathaniel and Asher like that did more for me. It wasn’t just watching men doing each other; it was watching the men I loved do each other.
Hands stroked my hips, then slid inside my thighs. It made me gaze down at the man who was settling between my legs. He slid his hands under my ass. “You are beautiful,” he said, as he lowered his face toward me.
I’d never tried to be this intimate this quickly with a stranger without the ardeur. I’d never tried anything quite like this with just me in my head. I felt my body tense, and Micah’s hands slid over my breasts, cupping them, kneading them. It made me put my face back next to his so he could kiss me, as Mephistopheles lowered his mouth to me. I got glimpses of Asher and Nathaniel as my eyes fluttered open and shut. Then I gave myself to the men touching me and lost track of all else. Micah put his hand under my chin, keeping my face upturned so he could kiss and explore my mouth with his lips and tongue. The kiss made me grind my body against the front of his, and I felt his body begin to swell against my back. Mephistopheles licked between my legs and it drew a small sound that Micah ate with his kisses. His other hand tightened on my breast the way he knew I liked it. Mephistopheles plunged his tongue between my legs, and it made me cry out again, pushing against Micah’s body, his mouth pushing at mine. His tongue found the center between my legs and began to lick, long, slow strokes. I writhed against his mouth, Micah’s body, Micah’s mouth, and both their hands.
Mephistopheles began to shorten his strokes, licking around and over, up and down, over that sweet spot. He began to lick in short, quick flicks of his tongue, and I felt that warm, heavy, weight growing between my legs. I whimpered into Micah’s mouth as he continued to kiss and explore me. He rolled my nipple between his fingers and pinched, knowing that little bit of pain would push the pleasure for me.
Quick flicks of Mephistopheles’ tongue, fast and faster: One minute it was a building warmth, heavy and delicious, and the next lick he pushed me over that sweet edge. I screamed my orgasm into Micah’s mouth, my body spasming between them. Mephistopheles set his mouth around me and sucked so that the orgasm grew and grew. He tightened his hands around my thighs to keep me from bucking too hard against him, and Micah held me with both arms to keep me still, or as still as he could. He finally let me tear my mouth away from his so I could scream my pleasure.
I felt Mephistopheles hesitate as if I’d startled him, and then he went back to sucking, until my eyes fluttered back into my head and my body was limp and twitching between them.
Micah whispered against my face, “Is that enough?”
I managed to tap my hand on the bed, which was one of our signals when we were rendered speechless with orgasm. Micah laughed and said, “She’s done.”
Mephistopheles gave one last long lick that made me cry out again and writhe against Micah’s body. I could feel him hard and ready against my back, and I wanted that between my legs. I so wanted that.
I felt the bed move, and Mephistopheles wasn’t between my legs anymore. If I could have opened my eyes I would have looked to see where he’d gone, but the next minute I didn’t have to look, I could feel. The tip of him was pushing against my opening while I still lay back against Micah’s body.
I struggled to make my eyes work enough to watch him above me, but about the time I tried the head of him slipped inside me and my eyes rolled farther back into my head, spasming my body against Micah. Mephistopheles began to push his way inside me, and he was big enough and wide enough that just that made the orgasm aftershocks of the oral sex continue. My body spasmed around his, and I felt him shudder above me.
I struggled to open my eyes and look at him. I managed to see his face above mine, his body held up on his arms, his lower body pressing in against me. His eyes were closed, his face turned away. I heard him mutter, “God, she’s spasming around me, so tight.”
Micah said, “The first time is amazing.”
“Is she always like this?” he asked in a breathy voice.
“After oral sex, yes,” Micah said.
Mephistopheles worked his way until I felt my body stop, before his did. It made me open my eyes, made me look down to find that he was buried as deep inside me as he could go, our bodies wedded to each other. Just seeing it made me cry out, my body pushing against his.
“God,” he whispered, “I don’t want to hurt her, but, God!”
“You won’t hurt her,” Micah said.
I found enough of myself for me to whisper, “F*ck me.”
“What?”
“F*ck me,” I said.
Mephistopheles looked behind me at Micah. He said, “Do it.” Micah was so hard and so big pressed against my back, and the other man was big and hard and inside me. The combination made me scream and try to put my nails in someone’s flesh. Micah pinned my arms against me, and being held even that little bit upped everything for me. I bucked between them and that was it. Mephistopheles drew himself out of me just enough and began to f*ck me. He found a deep, pounding rhythm and with my body raised against Micah’s he couldn’t get deep enough to hurt me. It was just deep, thick, pounding f*cking, but Micah had angled me so that Mephistopheles would have had to change position to hit hard at the end of each stroke. Micah’s own body was pushed against me. Not in me, not even close, but I felt his body grow wet and I knew it was his own excitement lubricating against my back. It made me begin to move more for both of them.
Mephistopheles’ body began to lose its rhythm, and I felt him fight to keep it, to last. He recovered the thick, stroking rhythm of his body into mine, and I felt that deep, heavy build of orgasm begin. I said in a voice gone breathless, “Close, I’m close.”
“When she goes you won’t last,” Micah said, “trust me.”
“I believe you,” he said, and I felt his body shudder as he fought to keep stroking himself in and out of me, faster, harder, deeper, but never too deep, never too hard, as if he could feel that sweet spot inside me and knew he was stroking over and over and over it. Micah’s body danced behind me as his body grew hard and wet against me. Then the next stroke of Mephistopheles’ body filled me up and spilled me over so that I screamed and drove my body harder onto his, pushing my back harder against Micah. He kept my arms pinned to my body, and I fought and danced between them, my body bucking and writhing as the pleasure filled me, spilled me, and then Mephistopheles shoved himself into me one last time. I felt his body spasm above me and inside me. I felt his release, and it made me cry out again. I felt Micah’s body spasm behind me and spill out in a hot wash of pleasure. I cried out again, at the feel of them both going at once in me and on me, and finally ended in a limp, twitching puddle of happy between the two of them. Micah lay behind me against the bed. I could hear him breathing hard, feel his heartbeat against my body.
Mephistopheles half collapsed, pulling himself out of me as he moved. That made me writhe more, and Micah cried out behind me as my body danced over him. Mephistopheles lay over my lower body and Micah’s. His breathing was heavier, more labored than Micah’s, but then he’d been working harder.
Asher cried out, and I turned to see his body bowed in a line of desire and release. Nathaniel was pressed as deep to his body as he could get. Nathaniel reduced him to eye-fluttering writhing and only then did he rise up from the other man’s body. Nathaniel’s eyes were soft focused, lips parted, as if he’d orgasmed, too.
“Devil,” Mephistopheles gasped.
“What?” Micah asked.
“Anita . . . asked what to call me . . . Family calls me Devil.”
I managed to focus my eyes enough to look at him where he lay half on us. “I know that Mephistopheles is the devil in the play, but why is it your nickname?”
“My twin sister’s full name is Good Angel. When I was little I asked what my name meant. My mother told me it was the name of the devil in the play. My sister said, ‘I’m the Angel, and you’re the Devil.’ It stuck. Besides, almost anything is better than Mephistopheles.”
He had a point, but . . . “So your twin sister is Angel and you’re Devil?”
“Yes.”
“Did that give you a complex of some kind as a kid?” I asked.
It took him two tries to turn more on his side so he could look at me better. “Do you mean did we live up to our names?”
“Yeah.”
He smiled, sudden and bright. “Are you asking if I’m the evil twin?”
It made me smile. “Yeah,” I said.
The smile faded around the edges, and his eyes were all serious when he said, “You better hope not.”