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“I have a gift for you,” John said. “It’s in the bedside drawer.”
Yellow pushed his hair out of his face. He was still catching his breath, the night air chilly on his sweat. Arthur had already passed out, and it seemed like a good night to curl up alongside him without inviting any annoying comments in the morning. He considered telling John to let it wait until morning, but curiosity, and guilty sympathy, instead had him rolling over to reach for the drawer. “What is it?”
John quickly shushed him. “Keep your voice down—Arthur doesn’t know.”
Yellow scoffed, but he did lower his voice to a whisper. “How could he not know?” He opened the drawer and reached inside.
His fingertips brushed along a smooth, rubbery object, slightly bulbous at one end and curved at the other. Removing it from the drawer for inspection didn’t make it any more identifiable, though. It looked like an oddly shaped squash, finely rendered, that depressed when he squeezed. Yellow relaxed onto the mattress again as he fingered it probingly. “What is it?” he asked bluntly, but when he glanced over, the glint in John’s eyes, which were fixed so attentively on him, gave him goosebumps. His already weary cock twitched in its sheath.
“It’s for you,” John insisted with a near breathless intensity.
“You want me to…” Yellow swallowed, squeezing the thing harder.
“In the morning, I want you to work your cock out,” John said, and Yellow’s heart fluttered. “And I want you to slide that up inside you.”
Yellow squirmed, and he shook the toy at John incredulously. “How does Arthur not know about this?”
“He thinks it’s something else—long story.” John’s voice deepened to a rumbling purr. “Will you do it for me?”
“I… yes.” Yellow licked his lips, and he hid it under his pillow. He watched Arthur’s sleeping face, but other than John’s eyes gleaming at him so devilishly, he showed every sign of being unconscious and oblivious. “If you want.”
“I do.”
Yellow didn’t sleep much. He kept waking up with fresh sweat, his heart racing. As soon as Arthur showed signs of waking, he whined and kicked and got the bed to himself for a while as Arthur and John made breakfast. John’s narrowed-eye sweep of his body as they left made him tingle, all over. As soon as he had privacy, he slipped his hands between his thighs.
It wasn’t hard to do as John had asked. He fingered the already slick folds of his cunt, pretending it was John roughly carrying out his own wishes. With both hands he spread himself wide and let his cock, swollen and eager, tumble free. Making use of the toy was a little trickier; he was wet and willing enough, and however John had gotten the thing made he had judged the size perfectly, because the tear-drop end slipped in under his cock with a deeply satisfying stretch. He had to muffle himself against his pillow to keep from alerting Arthur. But as the toy slid in, pushing against the underside of his twisty, tentacle cock, its soft bulb pressed into a tender bundle of muscle. Even gentle pressure caused it to flinch and contract, trying to drag his cock back up into his sheath.
The girth of the plug wouldn’t allow it. Yellow gasped, scraping his teeth against the mattress as he rolled onto his side. The muscles of his pelvis twitched and flexed, frustrated at being denied, and sending hard, breath-taking shudders all through his groin and belly. It pushed the dildo free a few times before Yellow, after several deep gulps of air, managed to welcome it deep enough that it nestled in. He saw fucking stars.
His poor cock, squirming in want of retreat; his wet folds held open, fluttering against the intrusion. Yellow whimpered into his palm, appalled by how open and frustrating it felt. He couldn’t prevent the tiny, needy movements of his hips, which only jostled the thing inside him, maddening him with unresolved pleasure. Fucking John. How did he know his body this well, when he barely knew it himself?
Yellow writhed for a while, only to remember that John deserved to be thanked for his gift. He drew on loose fitting underclothes and left the bedroom.
Arthur had just finished making breakfast, and he teased Yellow relentlessly for lazily sleeping in. Yellow burned all over. His cock was still hanging free, twitching now and again as it squirmed against the plug. The last inches peeked from the leg of his underclothes, leaving a wet smear against the inside of his thigh. He could barely speak from mortification beneath the leering, approving heat of John’s gleaming eyes. If Arthur noticed anything at all, he didn’t show it; just prattled on like usual as they sat down together to eat. Something about a case or a trip to a library or some nonsense. Yellow found it impossible to concentrate.
Arthur, chatting and chuckling to himself normally. Completely oblivious to Yellow’s flushed cheeks, his tiny pants he was trying so hard to quiet. Unaware of Yellow’s cock draped down his thigh, so bloated and overly sensitive. How open and yet how full he felt, how he fought to keep so very still as John’s attention raked over him.
John had offered very little to the conversation Arthur seemed content to carry on by himself; an agreeable hum here and there, a few words of direction, a prodding question where needed. He was otherwise entirely fixated on Yellow, his glowing eyes narrowed like two gold crescent moons. When Yellow stood to take his dish to the sink, the plug shifted inside him, and he had to bite into the meat of his palm to stay quiet as aches of arousal pumped out from it. John watched him the whole way.
If a creature without a mouth could salivate, John was certainly doing so. How pleased he must feel, to watch Yellow struggle for only his titillation and amusement. Who was this gift really for?
Yellow braced his hands to the countertop. The movement had been too much; all the delicious jostling had set his cock flexing again, involuntarily seeking retreat. But that only sucked the bulb deeper, thumping pleasure down the length of his twisty organ. He couldn’t stop it from groping at the inside of his thigh with a mind of its own. A reflexive back and forth of confused muscles, like a chain reaction fueling itself over and over. And the pressure was already mounting.
“Yellow,” said John, and Arthur paused in gathering his own plate and silverware. “Are you all right?”
Yellow chewed on a curse as he cast John a furious look. He sounded so fucking smug. But locking eyes arose in Yellow unbidden impressions of long, suckling limbs probing over his body, inside him, filling and rocking him with the majestic body they had once both been master of. He rolled his hips, unable to suppress the overwhelming sensation of John fucking into him.
Arthur cocked his head. He still had no fucking idea, and Yellow began to sweat all over at the thought of being caught. Not that it should have mattered, but ancient instinct was in play now, and he managed to catch his breath enough to grunt, “I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?” Arthur asked. He picked up his plate. “You sound hoarse.”
“I said I’m fine,” Yellow bit out, though by then he was swaying back and forth. The heat and pressure were radiating so infuriatingly up through his hips—he was going to come. Knuckles white against the countertop, eyes still latched onto John’s, he humped empty air, letting momentum rock the plug into a rhythm. “I—” His shoulders hitched as he concentrated on keeping his voice in a tone of irritation. “I didn’t sleep well.”
“Arthur worked you over pretty hard last night,” John said as Arthur moved closer. “I would have thought you’d pass straight out.”
“God fucking damn you, John,” Yellow hissed. He felt electric.
“No need for that,” Arthur chided, passing behind Yellow on his way to the sink. With the eye contact momentarily broken Yellow was able to take in a deep breath, head drooping. God he was so fucking close.
“It’s only the truth,” Arthur was saying, and he chuckled, soft and predatory. “If you’d rather we all go back to bed, you’ll hear no complaint from me.”
Yellow looked up again, staring at Arthur through his hair. Did he know after all? Had John fucking told him? That sly curl of his lip, that airy and superior laugh—that swipe of his tongue over his lips that went past the bravado into earnest anticipation…
And John’s eyes, piercing, penetrating, laying out promises of what was to come. John made a vulgar jerk of his fist, and Yellow’s breath stuttered at the thought of him taking hold of the end of the plug, thrusting it unrelentingly. His cunt throbbed, overwhelming him; he shoved his hand over his mouth, desperate to staunch his voice as his entire body rattled around a gut-punch of an orgasm. It clenched and thumped and twisted deep inside, as infuriating as it was satisfying. His cock twitched in his briefs and dribbled down the inside of his thigh. And he didn’t look away from John the entire time.
John’s gold seemed to pulsate warmly in the morning gray. If only he could grin, he’d be showing teeth.
Arthur cocked his head again, his brow deeply furrowed. “Yellow, are you…?”
“I’m going to get cleaned up,” Yellow panted, stumbling out of the kitchen. John chuckled devilishly, putting his heart back up in his ears and a whimper in his throat as he beat a retreat to the bathroom.
Fucking John. He would have to repay him for the “gift” later somehow.