Work Text:
“Look how hard he is for you,” Sam whispers, hands on your hips as he moves you into place. “Can’t wait to see his face when he feels how wet you are.”
Spencer lets out a ragged little sigh, tilting his head back and closing his eyes like it’s too much. With his hands cuffed to the headboard, he’s one long elegant line of sweat-sheened skin and lean muscle, pale except for the pink on his cheeks and the flushed-dark length of his cock curving up, achingly hard.
Sam’s been teasing for what feels like hours.
Your arms are bound too, ropes twisted all along your forearms, and you’re unsteady, but Sam’s fully in control of you — of both of you. He grabs your arms with one hand, and with the other he strokes Spencer lightly, guiding him into place until you can feel the hot blunt press of him between your legs. You whimper.
Spencer opens his mouth like he wants to say something, but all he can manage is a broken little whine.
Sam laughs quietly and teases, “Didn’t catch that.”
Most of the time, it’s impossible to shut Spencer up, but you’ve learned that it’s a nervous habit, for the most part. When he’s self-conscious, he talks; when he’s silent, like he is now, it means that he’s so focused on sensation, on his physical body, that his internal monologue has finally gone quiet.
In other words, it means Sam’s accomplished exactly what he wanted to accomplish tonight.
“Please?” you ask softly.
“Nice and slow,” Sam growls, as if you could move any faster with him holding you like this. He lowers you just an inch, letting you feel the first perfect stretch, before ordering, “Spencer. Watch.”
Spencer’s blown-dark, heavy-lidded eyes lock on yours. He’s fucking gorgeous like this, dazed and wrecked, so far under it’s like Sam’s got him hypnotized. He bites his lower lip, gaze traveling slowly — reverently — down your body to where he’s disappearing inside you, inch by inch, as Sam controls your movements with one big hand curled around your forearms and the other tangled in your hair.
You don’t bother to strain against his grip or push for more. There’s no point — and Sam might tease, but he always gives you what you need… eventually. It’ll be worth your while, if you can follow orders without losing your mind.
You finally pause with Spencer buried as deep as he can be inside you.
“How does that feel?” Sam whispers, right up against your ear. “Tell him.”
You shudder, squeezing around Spencer, rocking down slightly but fighting the overwhelming urge to just fuck, to ride him hard and fast and let the friction carry you over the edge.
“So good,” you tell Spencer hoarsely. “Being so good, I — god, love the way you look all tied up for us.”
Sam’s hands settle on your hips again, and he pushes — tugs — presses — makes you twist and swivel and grind in a way that has blindingly intense friction dragging along every part of you, lighting you up from the inside. Spencer’s eyes roll back, and he lets out a rough, pained sound before clenching his jaw.
“Something you want to say, Spence?” Sam says softly.
Spencer just breathes, ragged and uneven, and shakes his head.
“Do you want to feel her come?”
That gets a tiny, jerky nod.
Sam moves closer, his chest to your back and his left arm around your waist, keeping you steady. Then he reaches down between your legs, tracing the place where your body meets Spencer’s, before rubbing your clit just right. You moan, melting into his embrace, letting him hold you up as your thighs start to shake.
“What do you think?” Sam asks you. “Think you can come like this? Should we let him feel you squeezing around his cock while you lose it?”
You try to answer, but all that comes out is a long, incoherent groan as your orgasm starts to pull you under.