Tag Team (18 page)

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Authors: S.J.D. Peterson

BOOK: Tag Team
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Yup, you’re definitely getting old, Bobby boy.

Chapter 16

 

A
FTER
a week of nearly complete inactivity, his knee was fine. The ugly bruise made it look worse than it felt. Mason didn’t have the heart to tell Rig that the soreness he was experiencing was more likely due to his muscles needing to be stretched and worked, but he could also admit, he really liked being waited on and coddled by Rig and Bobby.

Rig had approached him the morning after Mason’s fall, and they’d discussed
cheating
. Rig had said many of the same things Bobby had and shared his own struggles with it after their sub died. He hadn’t told Mason how to feel or how not to feel. Simply told him that he’d know when the time was right to let those uneasy feelings go and start living again in the here and now. Rig also told him to take all the time he needed and not to let anyone push him into something he wasn’t ready for. Funny, Max had said the exact same thing. It was up to him to sort through his feelings.

With all the free time on his hands, sometimes bored out of his fucking tree like he was now, he had plenty of time to think about how he felt. It was like he was this giant rubber band, his guilt pulling him one way, his attraction for Bobby and Rig pulling even harder in the other direction. At some point he knew he would snap, because the soreness in his knee wasn’t the only thing on his body that was aching. With the way Papa Bear and Mama Bear were constantly hovering around him, touching him, looking at him, he was starting to get edgy as hell. Mason moaned as he thought about the way they wrapped around him while he slept and how it was becoming increasingly more difficult to fight the attraction and the battle he fought with himself when the desire to touch them became so overwhelming.

What he really needed at the moment was some alone time.

Mason scanned the immediate area. He could hear Bobby in the kitchen, and he was pretty sure he’d heard Rig step outside. Swallowing down his grunt of pain as he pushed himself up off the couch, he tiptoed past the kitchen where Bobby was at the sink cutting veggies or washing meat or whatever prep work he was doing for dinner. Mason let out a breath when he made it to the bathroom undetected, and in his haste to get into the shower he didn’t bother shutting the door. Which he realized was a huge mistake once he was under the flow of the showerhead and had a soapy hand wrapped around his straining cock, stroking himself.

“Hey, you should have called me. I’d have helped you get into the shower,” Rig said from just outside the shower curtain.

Fuck! He hadn’t even heard Rig come in the room. Mason’s cheeks heated; he felt like a teen who had just been caught beating off. He jerked around, trying to shield the evidence, and his weak knee twisted. Mason cried out in alarm and flailed, trying to find purchase on the slick wall of tile.

“Whoa there,” Rig said as strong arms grabbed Mason around the waist at the last minute before he could land on his ass.

To Mason’s dismay he ended up facing Rig, and his erection, red and straining proudly, poked Rig in the thigh. Mason didn’t even try to explain, because really, what could he say?

“Uh…. Damn. I should have knocked,” Rig murmured. He swallowed hard, and from the heat and desire in Rig’s heavy-lidded eyes he was very aware of the hard dick jabbing into his thigh.

“What’s going on? I heard Mason yell—”

Mason heard Bobby speaking, heard him rush into the bathroom, but Mason couldn’t speak, nor could he turn away from Rig’s hungry gaze. Rig seemed to be just as captured in the moment as Mason was, as he didn’t respond nor did he turn in Bobby’s direction either.

They continued to stare at each other. The want and need between them raged like a lightning storm, arcing and lighting up the whole fucking room. Without conscious thought, Mason wrapped his arms around Rig’s neck, grabbing a handful of hair, and smashed their mouths together. Mason moaned as Rig pushed his tongue past Mason’s lips and Rig’s flavor exploded on his tongue. He wasn’t the least bit passive as he normally would be, but instead, his tongue battled alongside Rig’s, trying to force the kiss deeper, giving as good as he got.

Rig and Bobby had treated him with kid gloves the past week, but there was nothing childlike in the way Rig devoured Mason’s mouth. All teeth and lips and tongue, it was a brutal kiss that sent Mason’s pulse racing and his dick throbbing. All thoughts fled. There was no past or future, only this moment, and Mason gave over to the pleasure searing through his system. His hips snapped as a heavy hand wrapped around his cock and began to pull in hard, even strokes.

At some point during the kiss, Mason’s natural inclinations moved to the forefront, and he opened his mouth wide, no longer battling for control but allowing Rig to direct Mason’s body however he wanted, submitting completely and freely to the lust his body demanded as Rig continued his sensual assault.

“You’re so goddamn gorgeous, Mason,” Rig growled huskily against Mason’s mouth. “Take my fucking breath away.”

Mason could only cling to Rig’s soaked T-shirt and wet hair, moaning, as his arousal spiraled higher and higher until every nerve ending in his body tingled and a thrill raced down his spine. He was like a man starved too long, and he wanted to savor each stroke of Rig’s hand, each swipe of his wet, wicked tongue. Wanted to lose himself in the sensation of bliss that surrounded him and held him hard and hot and so fucking perfect. But even as he fought to slow his racing heart and panting breaths, tried to find the reins that would hold back his orgasm, Rig continued to push him closer and closer.

“Bobby is watching me stroke you,” Rig said in a low, gravelly voice that only fanned the flames of Mason’s desire.

Rig scraped his teeth across Mason’s bottom lip, then nipped hard; the little spark of pain caused Mason to arch his back. “Fuck. Do that again,” he shamelessly begged, too far gone to care.

“He’s watching my hand move along your pretty prick, wishing it was him.” Rig moved his mouth along Mason’s jaw and nipped the skin below Mason’s ear, causing him to jerk. “Wishing it was his mouth around your cock, sucking you. Tasting you.”

The last shred of Mason’s control was ripped from his grasp when he turned his head and met Bobby’s lust-filled eyes from across the room, Mason’s cry of pleasure echoed off the tiled walls as he came in pulses, his cum fountaining over Rig’s fist as he tightened his grip, speeding his strokes until he’d drained every drop from Mason. Mason shuddered, pushed Rig’s hand away from his overly sensitive prick when it became too much, and clutched Rig’s T-shirt and locked his knees, waiting for the guilt to crush him and drive him to the floor, but it didn’t come. Instead, he got another set of strong arms around him, a broad chest pressed against his back, and he was enveloped in Bobby and Rig.

The warm water rushed down on them, the steam surrounding them like a cocoon. The two men held Mason until his breathing and heart slowed closer to a normal level, and Mason wanted to weep with how good it felt. He could feel the hard cock pressed against his stomach, another against his ass, but neither man seemed in a hurry to relieve themselves. They simply held Mason. Rig kissed the top of Mason’s head, then leaned just enough so he could press a kiss to Bobby’s lips. Mason pulled back and rested his head on Rig’s shoulder and watched them kiss. It struck him odd at how gentle the press of lips was, Rig gently sucking on Bobby’s lower lip, then releasing it to trace Bobby’s mouth with the tip of his tongue.

The hard cock against Mason’s stomach twitched, and as if on cue, Bobby slowly went to his knees and nudged Mason out of the way but still held him close by wrapping his arm around Mason’s thighs. With his other hand, Bobby carefully pulled at the waistband of Rig’s shorts, exposing his very large, very hard cock. Bobby then pushed his own shorts down just enough to grasp his length in a fist and stroked himself as he took Rig into his mouth.

Rig and Bobby didn’t exclude Mason from their pleasure. Both men held him close, allowed him into their intimacy. Rig grasped his erection with one hand, guiding it slowly in and out of Bobby’s mouth as the fingers of his other hand tangled in Mason’s hair and held his head against Rig’s shoulder. Bobby continued to stroke himself while he massaged and kneaded the flesh of Mason’s thighs, ass, and lower back. Mason couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen or felt anything so beautiful. Once again, Mason was struck dumb by how these two men had come into his life, put his needs above all other things, and asked for nothing in return.

Mason felt tears burn his eyes as Rig found his release, all the while holding Mason, murmuring soft words and laying kisses against Mason’s head. The tears that threatened fell down Mason’s cheek, not from the awed look in Bobby’s eyes as he stared up at Mason while he shot out his pleasure, but from the way they cared for each other, touched each other and Mason. He couldn’t speak, his emotions too raw, his words stuck in his throat, and his chest ached as they washed him and each other silently.

No words were necessary.

A connection born out of pain and loss was solidified while standing under the spray of cascading shower, or maybe he just hadn’t realized that it had been growing stronger and more complete each day they spent together and only now comprehended the significance of their relationship.

Mason was still pondering this question, trying to figure out just when these men had burrowed past his despair and doggedly found a way into his heart, as they all dried each other and he followed them into the bedroom. Rig pulled back the covers on the large king-size bed, and Mason, without hesitation, lay in the middle, welcoming the men as they each lay down on either side of him. He pushed close, and Rig placed a hand on Mason’s chest, Bobby placing his just below it.

The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable. It was peaceful. He had no doubt that whatever barrier or obstacle they had just crossed, Rig and Bobby were feeling it too. Mason could feel it in their touch, had seen it in their eyes, and it was as if none of them wanted to speak and break the delicate bubble that surrounded them in this perfect little world. Later, reality would come rushing back, but for now, they all just basked in the contented quiet and held each other.

Chapter 17

 

S
ITTING
at the small desk in the spare bedroom, Mason fired up his laptop, and with a few strokes of the keyboard, Max’s smile face popped up on the small screen.

“Morning, Mason. How are you doing today?”

Mason waved at the webcam, smiling brightly. “I’m awesome. I had the most amazing day yesterday.”

On the screen Max leaned back slightly. “Yeah? What made it so awesome?”

Mason frowned. Max wasn’t in his office; the wood-paneled wall behind him was an unfamiliar one. He’d chatted with the therapist from his office and home, but he’d never seen this darkened place. And what the hell was Max wearing?
Oh sweet baby Jesus
, Max wasn’t wearing anything, well, at least not from the waist up that was visible. He knew Max had an impressive physique. He’d felt the hardness in his body when Max hugged him, had an appreciation for the bulging muscles from the way the ridges of them had been highlighted by the tight T-shirts he wore. But without a shirt, Max was fucking glorious. He had dark hair across his upper chest that thinned down to a small line which ran from his navel downward and gold rings in both small dark nipples, which reflected the light of an unseen bulb. Mason’s mouth went dry, and he leaned closer still to get a better look. He rolled his eyes at himself and huffed when he tried to look over the edge of the screen.

“Where the hell are you?” Mason asked, his voice sounding thick and gravelly. “And for God sakes, put a shirt on or tilt your webcam up or…,” Mason grumbled and ran a shaky hand through his hair. “How are you supposed to therapatize me while you’re dressed like—” Mason flopped his hand at the screen ineffectively while he tried to find the right words. When he couldn’t voice what it was he was trying to say, he frowned and pointed an accusing finger at Max. “You’re quite the distraction!”

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