TBG: Does everyone know what day it is?! It’s Mardi Gras! Woot woot!
And as a special treat to our viewers, Gina A. Rogers generously offered to write this free story just for us. As always, we are very grateful that she’s given us this chance to air Second to None for all you lovely viewers. So, sit back and we hope you enjoy it as much as we have 🙂
Blurb: Graham hates being the center of attention but at six foot five he has always stood out in a crowd. Snide comments, preconceived expectations and guys looking for it rough follow him everywhere. When his best friend calls in a debt and forces him to go to a Mardi Gras party he never expects to meet Jeremiah. Tattooed and cocky, the guy sees right through him so when his friend throws down a challenge that will mean getting up close and naked with the man, Graham has no problem proving he’s second to none. (approx 6900 words)
Second to None
by Gina A. Rogers
“Uhng,” Graham moaned, rolling over and kicking at the sheets that had tangled around his legs. His temples throbbed and he could feel the extra-large sausage and green pepper pizza he’d eaten last night trying to fight its way out of his gut. He should know better by now, but the words had been out of his mouth before he’d given a thought to the consequences. “I’m going to kick your ass in Fifa,” Graham had blurted to his roommate and best friend, Nic, the night before. That was how he ended up spending his Friday night gorging on pizza and beer and trying his damndest, yet again, to win.
Competition was always intense between Graham and Nic. They’d met at the University of Maryland, both freshman and both vying for a starting forward position on the men’s soccer team. The first words Nic ever said to him were still etched in his mind. “Hey, ogre, the football field’s that way. They like ‘em big and slow. This here is soccer.”
The words stung, more than Graham ever admitted to anyone, so he struck back using the only ammunition he had at the time. “Yeah, asshole, thanks but I know where I belong. Not sure about you though, Nicol. The girl’s team practices three fields down.” Graham felt bad for using the guy’s name against him. He knew what it felt like to be judged for something you had no control over. At six foot five, Graham stood out everywhere he went. People thought he was slow and stupid. They thought he would be mean and tough, like those traits were some magic growth pills. Act like a douche, grow an extra couple of inches.
Graham slowly sat up and threw his long legs over the edge of the bed. His shoulders ached from slouching over the game controller into the wee hours of the morning. Reaching up high and stretching, he smiled, thinking about the fun he and Nic had playing their new Xbox One. They talked smack and shoulder checked each other, just like real brothers. If someone had told him that day on the soccer field the bigger-than-life blonde would be his best friend by the time they graduated, he would have laughed his ass off.
Graham stood up and stretched some more before ambling to the bathroom. Finished with his morning business, he casually walked out into the main area of the apartment he and Nic moved into after graduating. Four months into his freshman year, Graham and Nic had developed a sort of mutual respect for one another. Graham had proven time and again that just because he was big didn’t mean he couldn’t fucking play. When he was a teen, everyone tried to tell him to give up on soccer. “You’re built to play basketball or football,” they all said. But Graham loved soccer and stuck to it. He was constantly self-consciousness about his size, both on and off the field, but that only made him work harder than everyone around him just to prove he could be the best.
A soccer scholarship and the chance to be a Terp made him feel vindicated. He gained not only a free ride at the fairly liberal college, but the freedom he so desperately craved to be himself. Being taller than every single one of his high school friends and teammates had been bad enough, being gay to boot would have crushed what little was left of his self-esteem. Not that anyone realized he had a really low image of himself anyways. Everyone assumed that his grand size meant his ego was grandiose as well.
Of course, if it hadn’t been for Nic, he would probably still be in the closet, hiding behind his size 14 shoes. The night he finally had the balls to go to one of the local gay bars replayed in Graham’s mind as he poured himself a bowl of Lucky Charms. He’d been nervous as hell and half nauseous, sitting in the shadows, trying to keep from being noticed. But as soon as he stood and tried to make his way to the bathroom men took notice.
They came up to him in droves, latching on to his muscles and using words like rough, spank me and power top. He’d been just about to bolt when a heavy arm slung around his shoulders and a very familiar head of blonde hair came into view. “”What’s up, guys?” Nic shouted over the music. Graham stood in stunned silence as Nic winked before turning to the crowd of overeager Abercrombie wannabes. “Just so you know, my friend here may be bigger but that certainly doesn’t mean he’s better.” Nic’s broad, cocky smile and obvious charisma was just enough to draw all the attention to him and away from Graham, who was still standing there in a complete state of shock. “In fact,” Nic turned to him, dropping his voice low, “I bet you a sandwich from Fishnet that I can blow my wad down one of these guys’ throat before you.”
And just like that Graham had an out. He knew from the soccer field that Nic was viciously competitive. All he had to do was hide behind his false bravado and make half an effort while Nic put all of his charm to work, taking all the attention while he was at it. Less than an hour later Graham was happy to hand the cashier behind the counter of the local hotspot a twenty for two salmon sandwiches. He hadn’t won the bet but he’d connected with Nic on a whole new level and he’d gained a way to continue pretending for all of the world like he was the big man on campus.
Graham sighed as he dumped the remaining milk from his cereal bowl down the drain. For over three years now he and Nic have been pulling the same routine. They were nearly inseparable. They took the same courses, fought for the best grades, and tried to outdo each other in everything. Graham really did love the man, but it was a brotherly kind of love. What he really wanted, as much as it scared the shit out of him, was to find someone who saw underneath his massive size and cocky attitude to the quiet guy begging for someone to give him strength.
Feeling the weight of his deepest secrets Graham decided to lighten the mood and play a little Xbox. Nic was off doing his usual Saturday morning gym, coffee, groceries routine so that meant he could have the new toy all to himself. They had agreed to split the cost and splurge on the game console with their first real life paychecks. They had both managed to score jobs with one of the largest healthcare companies in Maryland; Graham as an advertising manager and Nic as a public relations coordinator. He liked his job a lot but it was hard work. Saturday morning alone time was one of the ways he dealt with all the stress.
Lightly scratching at the trail of dark hair that lead downward from his navel, Graham considered putting on a t-shirt before settling in for some Call of Duty. Deciding against it, and enjoying his freedom he grabbed a controller from the entertainment center and went to sit on the overstuffed leather couch but came up short when he saw the mess that lay sprawled across the coffee table. Beer bottles, greasy napkins and empty pizza boxes littered the area. Graham may look like the manliest of men, but he didn’t enjoy living like a pig so he gathered all the crap and walked it to the kitchen. Just as he went to collapse the pizza boxes he noticed the message written across it with a black sharpie.
Fuck, Graham had forgotten all about losing their bet last night by one lousy goal. Now he was on the hook to be Nic’s wingman. He’d been avoiding Nic’s pleas to go clubbing for weeks now, loathe to spend even one more single night pretending to be something he wasn’t. He always came home exhausted, the effort it took for him to be what everyone expected was draining, but he was an honorable man. He’d never dream of not paying up, even if the hastily scrawled note made his stomach churn. Loser! Be ready to go by eight! Saintz!! It’s Mardi Gras night, Beyotch!
Graham unfurled his long legs from the cab where it was parked across the street from Saintz. Both he and Nic enjoyed getting a good buzz going when they went out so the cab was a must. Plus, not having to worry about catching a ride made it easier for Graham to escape once Nic found his conquest for the night. Jogging across the street, dodging headlights, Graham felt that familiar pang of melancholy. God, how he wanted to feel normal, wanted to not feel like every eye was on him, taking in his size and automatically making assumptions about him.
It’s not that he hasn’t met some great people and had some fun relationships, it was just that as he became more and more of an adult, he felt less and less grown up. He was self-conscious and awkward yet no one knew because he hid it so well behind his brash personality and large frame. He’d come out of one closet yet been hiding in another.
Nic shoved him through the large electric blue doors of the club, a wave of thumping music and flashing lights startling his senses. Graham decided to let his issues go for the night. He would do his best to have a good time, not that it was really that hard. He did love to listen to music, and despite feeling like a beluga whale in a china shop, getting on the dance floor and moving his body always made him feel free. So long as he could drink enough to dull the sharp claws of his inhibitions. There would be plenty of time tomorrow to think back on the night and worry about how he looked and what everyone thought of him.
Graham handed his identification over to the big silent type at the door before handing his thirty dollars to the cute boy behind the register wearing nothing but some beads and a pair of black boxer briefs with a giant gold-sequined fleur de lis strategically placed over his package. “Aren’t you just a tall drink of sweet tea, shuga,” the cashier said in his best southern drawl before attempting to convince Graham to dance with him later. Graham had cringed at the kid’s words. Was it seriously too fucking much to ask that strangers say ‘hello’ before they start in on the tall comments. He’d heard it all before but still. At least the kid changed it up a bit, adding a little southern twist in honor of Mardi Gras, but he still wasn’t getting that dance.
Doing his best to push aside the knot forming in his gut, Graham entered the main area of the club. The exchange caused him to fall behind and Nic was now ahead of him in the massive crowd. That was one nice thing about being at least a head taller than everyone else, he could see the entire layout and easily spotted his friend. Nic was wedged against the long wooden counter, doing his best to charm the sexy bartender. Shots were free until ten o’clock, as a part of the higher cover price they paid for the Bourbon Street festivities, so guys were asshole to elbow, not that most of the men here minded that really.
Graham nodded when Nic spotted him across the sea of people. His friend downed two of the four shots he coaxed from the bartender before picking up the other two in one hand and two bottles of beer in the other and gesturing towards the back of the room. Graham nodded once again, and changed direction. The building that housed the club was once a factory so the floor plan was mostly open. Two octagonal bars broke up the space, one on each side of the huge room. The neon lights under the ledge of the wooden counters were lit up purple and green tonight for Mardi Gras.
Graham often came here with Nic, it was one of those places that had everything. Shadowed booths lined the outer edges while the dance floor dominated the center of the room, the glitter embedded in the slick black floor reflecting the light. Along the fringe of gyrating bodies Graham wound his way to where a set of stairs led to the second floor.
Graham stumbled forward a little, tripping over the drunken man who was suddenly hanging on his neck, trying to pull him down so the guy could loop a strand of beads around his head. The man was hot, Graham had to admit that. He always had a thing for the bad boy look and the spiked hair, dark clothes and heavy leather boots in front of him definitely turned his crank. Too bad the douche had to open his mouth and talk. “Please tell me,” the man stranger slurred, “that you are proportionate all over.”
“Yeah, man.” Graham grabbed the guy by the shoulders and leaned in to whisper in his ear. “I really am. But too bad for you that includes the size of my brain.” Graham pushed the guy back into the crowd and continued on. A couple of drag queens caught his eye, their feathered head pieces and spiked heels placing them nearly at eye level with Graham. He had to give it to the queens, they looked like they were loving the attention their stature and skimpy festive outfits brought them. Not for the first time Graham wondered what it would be like to feel that comfortable in your own skin.
“What the hell took you so long,” Nic shouted at him as he neared the doorway.
“The usual shit.” Graham took the offered shots and slung them back, placing the empty glasses on the ledge that ran around the outer wall before accepting the bottle of beer held out towards him.
“Trying to avoid trampling all us little people or having to duck for oncoming planes?” Nic joked.
“Har, har. Dick.” Graham playfully shoved his best friend. It never bothered him when Nic said those kinds of things. He guessed it should but the people who loved you unconditionally were always allowed those kinds of privileges. He had that with Nic, but he also wanted it with someone he could think about having sex with without throwing up a little in his mouth.
They ascended the long flight of stairs to the second floor of the club, the pulsing beat of the dance music fading behind them only to be replaced by the sounds of balls clacking together. No, not those kinds of balls, the ceramic kind. Rows of pool tables and ping pong tables filled the space, men and a few women crowded around watching and playing. There were a few dartboards here and there as well and even a basketball hoop in the far corner. Unlike the sexual tension that thickened the air downstairs, up here there was a sense of raucousness, like an overgrown fraternity party. Naturally, Nic loved it here.
Graham enjoyed himself as well. He wasn’t adverse to fun. Not at all. He just didn’t like being the center of attention. He didn’t need it like Nic did, preferring to observe or take part without calling for the whole world to stop and bow to his greatness.
“Damn,” Nic cursed, “It’s packed in here tonight. Let’s see if we can get in on a game.”
Before Graham could say anything in reply the sound of cheering and the drawn out ‘oh’ of defeat erupted. Nic turned towards the noise and Graham had no choice but to follow. At one of the tables an athletic looking African-American guy was doing one of those in-your-face style victory dances. He fist bumped his friend, some hipster white kid, before leaping onto a nearby stool and declaring, “I’m the king of the world!”
When Graham saw the way Nic was eyeing the DeCaprio impersonator he knew exactly where this night was headed. His best friend always went for the cockiest guy in the room, besides himself of course. Sure enough, Nic inched his way closer to the table before yelling, “A round of beers says my friend and I will sink your battleship, Leo.”
The man hopped off the stool and sauntered up to Nic. He smiled, the striking contrast of white teeth against his dark skin making him look even more predatory. He pointedly ran his deep brown eyes along the length of Nic’s body before saying, “You’re on, Master Chief.”
When the guy turned towards his friend and ordered him to rack ‘em up, the guy threw the plastic triangle at him. “Do it your own fucking self,” he responded. Graham wasn’t expecting his reaction. The strength and authority in the guy’s voice gave him goose bumps. Eyeing his new opponent, Graham chalked his cue stick.
The man was built nicely. His strategically faded low-rise skinny jeans hugged him in all the right places and showed off his swimmer’s physique. He wore a slim-fitting t-shirt that had the eclipsed sun album cover for one of Graham’s favorite bands, Placebo, on it. The short sleeves allowed the man to show off the tattoo that covered nearly his entire left arm. The colors were so vivid and sharp, Graham wanted to get a closer look at it, see if he could see the texture of the man’s skin underneath.Yeah, he would be hanging around for the night. If for no other reason than the mere opportunity to get a chance to run his tongue around the thick black gauges in the guy’s earlobes.
Nic shoulder bumped him. They stood and waited for the man to finish setting up the table. “So,” Nic spoke quietly, “I call dibs on the black guy. His body is fucking tight. Sorry, bud. Maybe you can ditch his metro friend later and find someone else.”
“It’s cool, dude. I kinda think the guy is hot.”
“Really,” Nic turned to him and raised an eyebrow. “I always thought you liked your guys more all-pro.”
“Yeah, well, I like to slum it every once in a while.” Graham winced at the insult. It wasn’t the way he really thought, but he just couldn’t be honest with Nic, terrified of his friend seeing the other side of him, the softer, more introverted side. After all this time he didn’t think Nic would reject him, he just had a driving need to only share that vulnerable part of himself with someone special.
“Yo, Chief,” Nic’s guy called out, “you got your wallet ready? It’s gonna be a whole lot lighter by the time we’re done here.” The man moved towards the end of the table. “We break, since you have the unfair advantage of the jolly giant with a reach as long as the table.”
Every. Fucking. Time. Graham could feel his hurt and anger start to rise. His body stiffened, readying to make a bold response, but then the guy’s sexy teammate came up behind him and walloped him across the back of the head. “Don’t be a fucktard, Darnel.” He moved over to stand in front of Graham, looking up at him and winking before saying, “You guys can go first. My friend could use a lesson in how to properly handle a stick. The last time he broke, he barely jiggled the balls.”
“Aw,” Nic chortled before moving over to the table. “I like this guy.”
Graham just stared at the man in front of him, unable to form words. Whether he knew it or not, he was the first person to ever stand up for Graham like that. Managing to move, he raised his arm up and offered the guy his hand. “I’m Graham,” he said.
“Jeremiah, but you can call me Jere.” His grip on Graham’s hand was firm, not at all intimidated by Graham’s size, and it practically made him come in his jeans a little. The crack of the balls slamming together cut the invisible rope of tension between him and Jeremiah. Jere. They both turned towards the table as the game got underway.
An hour later they agreed to end in a one to one tie and head to the bar for drinks rather than starting a third game. They each grabbed a fresh beer and headed over to one of the tall round tables to stand and chat. Darnel and Nic were like two peacocks, strutting around trying to impress each other with their shiny feathers. They were talked loudly and shoved or punched each other’s arm frequently.
Graham found that he wasn’t quite sure how to act. He was insanely attracted to Jere, but did he need to be the cocksure jock to win him over? It was the trope he always went with but all through the games of pool the man had unnerved him. He subtly called Graham out every single time he acted with false bravado. He crowded up on him, challenging him for space. And when Graham took the slightest step away, the corners of Jere’s mouth lifted. He knows Graham thought. But not once did Jere make him feel inferior or ridiculous. Not once did he call attention to Graham and his weakness. It was almost as if he wanted to keep Graham’s secret all to himself, wanted to own that part of him.
Damn. Graham reached down to adjust himself. He wanted Jeremiah. He wanted him bad. Fingers dug into the flesh just above his elbow for a brief second. Jere hadn’t even looked his way but Graham could tell by the crinkle of his eyes that the man’s focus was completely on him. It was a heady feeling.
“Dude,” Nic slammed his beer down on the table. “Mardi Gras is not about sacrificing and eating donuts! It’s about beads and naked bodies. It’s a holiday for voyeurs and exhibitionists.” Nic was gesturing wildly with his hands, pointing out the various examples around the bar.
“Oh yeah?” Darnel leaned into Nic, their noses practically touching. His voice was low and sultry when he spoke to Nic. “And which one are you, pretty boy? You like to watch? Or do you like to do?”
Fuck. Graham could feel a challenge of some kind coming on. It was Nic’s go to response to being put on the spot. He just hoped he could make it out of the situation with Jere in tow.
Nic grabbed his beer and took a long swig before responding. “Baby, you already know what I am. Want me to demonstrate?”
Darnel didn’t reply. Instead he turned to Graham and asked, “What about you?”
Graham froze. The guy was calling him out. He couldn’t let that shit slide. Not here, in public. With all the confidence he didn’t feel he said, “I’m definitely a grow-er and a show-er.”
When Darnel opened his mouth to say something back, Jere cut in. “You know what I am? A blues fan. Who fucking cares. Mardi Gras is just an excuse to eat cake with little fake babies in it without feeling like a freak.”
For a moment things could have gone terribly bad, but then they all burst into laughter. Graham’s smile was the most genuine one he’d ever given. Once again Jere had managed to diffuse what would normally have been a sensitive situation for Graham. He owed the man. Maybe he would offer to blow him in the bathroom. But of course he should have known that Nic wouldn’t let it go. “So, Darnel,” his best friend piped up, “since you profess to enjoy putting on a show, how about a little fun? I bet we could show these two how to really party Mardi Gras style. And I bet we could hold out longer than they could.”
Darnel looked over to Jere. Seeing whatever he needed to on his friend’s face, he nodded. “We’re in. Let’s establish the rules.”
Graham only caught a few phrases of the conversation from there on. “No switching partners” and “No hands allowed” were some of the things he heard but his focus was all on his racing heart and the sweat forming under his arms. It was bad enough he had to live up to everybody’s social expectations, now he would have to perform to their sexual standards as well! They would expect him to be rough and hard; to dominate.
A hand at the small of his back brought him out of his spiraling thoughts. Fingers slid under the hem of his shirt, blunt nails scraping along his lower back. The brief flare of pain was enough to calm him. He heard Nic say, “Let’s get out of here.” He sat his bottle on the table and took a moment to look at Jere. The man winked at him and strode off after their friends. Had to be fucking Mardi Gras Graham thought to himself before striding off towards the exit, his long legs eating up the distance between him and the gorgeous man he would be fucking tonight.
Out on the sidewalk Nic and Darnel were wrapped around each other, making out like kids, waiting for a taxi to go by. Graham pulled Jere to the side, bending down and placing his mouth next to his ear. He put his hands on the guy’s narrow hips and drew him a little closer, making it look like they were getting things started too. Jere went right along with it, throwing his arms over Graham’s shoulders and locking them behind his neck.
“Are you okay with this?” Graham asked. He genuinely liked Jere and wanted to be able to explore that connection he felt with the man. He would call an end to this stunt right now and risk being called a pussy loser a thousand times over if it meant he had a chance at something real.
The tongue running up Graham’s throat all the way to his jaw felt like nothing he’d ever experienced before. Desire and pure want struck him fast and hard, making him lightheaded. Jere’s words, whispered in his ear, only made matters worse. “Yeah, Graham, I’m okay with this. But next time…” Jere nibbled on the fleshy lobe of his ear. “Next time, it’s going to be my cock buried your ass. I bet no one’s ever done that for you have they?”
Graham couldn’t speak. He was barely managing to stand. Nibbles, little bites of teeth, along his jaw and his knees tried to buckle. Hot breath pulsing against his ear before Jere’s words made him moan. “You’re going to fucking scream for me.”
Jere pulled back, releasing him, and turned towards the black and yellow car waiting at the curb. Graham almost did a face plant but he caught himself, remembering that they were still out in public and he had that goddamn image to uphold. Thank God the taxi was only a few feet away. Walking, even a short distance, with his hard dick pinned against his thigh was quite uncomfortable.
The twenty minute ride did nothing to help Graham’s ability to walk. The four of them crammed into the backseat of the car. Jere straddled his lap as Darnel did the same to Nic. It was frustrating, sitting there pinned to the seat while Jere undulated his hips, rolling their hard cocks together before arching his tight ass into Graham’s hands.
Graham was so fucking turned on it made him want to manhandle Jere. Stopping, he looked up at the man in his arms. Amazing. For the first time in his life he wanted to be all the things he was expected to be. He wanted to be rough and demanding. He wanted to bury himself inside Jere and rut hard and fast. He wanted to come all over him, mark him like the beast everyone thought him to be. And he was okay with that. Jere gave him that. Gave him a way to accept those expectations and love it.
Was it the knowledge that there would be a next time coupled with the promise Jere made? Maybe it was the feeling Graham had that Jere saw through him but didn’t want to exploit his vulnerabilities. The hot as hell man grinding against him, burying his hands under his shirt, had in fact repeatedly stepped in to protect him. He didn’t say any of those snide asinine things people said to him about his size. Jere treated him like he was normal, told him he would top him like it was nothing unusual. Fuck. Graham groaned. He was going to keep this guy. Graham was going to rock his goddamn world tonight and make sure he would be coming back for more.
The car lurched to a stop in front of their building. Darnel jumped right out the door and Nic quickly followed. Jere gave him one last scalding kiss, pulling his bottom lip into his mouth and sucking on it, before rolling off of him and out onto the sidewalk. Jere paid the driver and made sure to give him a generous tip. He was glad the guy hadn’t been a prick about four dudes dry humping in the back of his vehicle.
The four of them made their way into Graham and Nic’s apartment, pausing to make out against the wall or on the stairs. They had all been drinking and were riding that edge between uninhibited and dangerous. Nic unlocked the door and flicked on the light. “Remember,” he said to them, “first one to make his partner come without touching their dick wins.” And with that he drug Darnel inside. Graham came up behind Jere and wrapped his arms around the man’s waist, kissing and sucking his neck as he slowly walked him forward.
By the time the door clicked shut Nic and Darnel were already in the living room, working on getting each other naked. They ripped at each other’s clothes as their mouths clashed. Nic definitely had a sexy body, Graham just didn’t want to have sex with it. Even Darnel was beautiful to look at with his rich, dark skin smoothed over sculpted abs and broad shoulders, but again he wasn’t Graham’s type.
“Damn, that’s fucking hot to watch,” Jere groaned. Graham walked him a little further into the apartment, angling them for the perfect view of the show. He continued place wet open-mouthed kisses along the column Jere’s neck, across the back just above the collar of his shirt, and up the other side. He could feel the slight rock of Jere’s hips against his own.
“Mmm,” Graham moaned next to Jere’s ear, causing him to shiver in his arms. “Look at them tongue fucking each other. I want to do that you your hole, slide my tongue in and out, fuck you with it.”
“Christ.” Jere’s hips shot forward seeking friction for the bulge Graham could see pressing against his zipper. Graham jerked those hips back against his crotch. “And you know I’m big, right. Well, my tongue is no exception.” Jere moaned and shoved his ass back. Graham bent his knees so his answering bulge fit snug against the bottom of Jere’s mound and moved up and down, riding the seam of Jere’s jeans.
Before he lost his mind, and his load, Graham pushed Jere forward towards the dark leather sofa that sat opposite a matching one. A large square coffee table sat low in between them. Nic and Darnel, completely naked now, lay on the other couch. Darnel was on top, holding himself up on his arms as he rubbed his long uncut cock over Nic’s balls and up alongside his ruddy dick.
Graham stripped his shirt off over his head before doing the same with Jere’s. He wrapped his long arms around Jere’s insanely hot body again, one hand going to his nipple as the other slid down his flat stomach and into the waist of his jeans. He could feel moisture against his knuckles from the pre-come that leaked from the slit of Jere’s warm, thick cock. Unable to wait any longer to taste his man, Graham gave Jere’s shaft a few tugs before sliding out of his pants so he could unbutton them.
He grabbed a handful of Jere’s thick dark hair and yanked his head back, baring his Adam’s apple. He ran his tongue around it and sucked on the spot a little before ordering him to bend over and brace himself on the back of the couch. Graham was really enjoying his role tonight. He made sure Jere had a direct view of the porn quality show going on across from him. That, coupled with what Graham was about to do to the man’s ass would likely bring him right to the fucking edge.
Graham dropped to his knees. He ran the palm of his hands up the back of Jere’s thighs, over the curve of his cheeks to hook his fingers in the waist of his pants and underwear. Achingly slow he pulled the material down, kissing and flicking his tongue against every inch of the smooth bronze skin he revealed. Jere’s body vibrated and a drop of sweat beaded along his spine and slid down to pool in the dip right above the cleft of his ass. Graham lapped it up, swirling his tongue in the little valley, making sure to capture every last drop.
His hands continued to work Jere’s pants down his legs, far enough that he could shove the man’s thighs apart before palming the globes of his ass in his large hands and using his thumbs to spread them open, revealing his puckered entrance. Jere groaned above him and Graham wasted no time. He leaned in and placed his nose against skin, inhaling the musky scent of the most amazing guy he’d ever been with. Jere’s knees wobbled and he slumped forward. Graham could hear him panting along with the wet sounds of someone giving a blow job on the opposite couch.
He swiped his tongue over Jere’s hole, loving the drag created between the roughness of his tongue and the man’s skin. Jere arched his back more, begging Graham with his body. He didn’t hold anything back. Graham used short lapping strokes, long slow glides and sharp thrusts of his tongue to drive Jere wild with need. He dove down and pulled the gritty skin of his balls into his mouth, stretching the globes. He munched Jere’s taint, alternating between nipping the sensitive skin and digging his chin into it, stimulating him from the outside.
Graham couldn’t get enough of Jere: his scent, his taste, his sounds. The pressure against his own cock was nearly unbearable. He reached down to undo his buttons and zipper, releasing some of the tension. Graham didn’t dare touch himself for fear of coming on the spot. He could hear someone rummaging through one of the coffee table drawers followed by the familiar sound of a condom being torn open. He ran his tongue along the crack of Jere’s ass one more time and bit the fleshy part of one cheek before standing up.
Jere spun around, nearly falling over as his legs tangled in his jeans. Graham steadied him and gasped as Jere attacked his mouth with a ferocity he’d never inspired in any lover before. The flesh of their cocks touched together causing them both to moan. Without separating their mouths, they fought and wrestled with their shoes and pants until they were both completely naked. Over Jere’s shoulder Graham could see Nic sitting on the couch angling his dick towards Darnel’s entrance as the man straddled his thighs, his back to Nic’s chest, and slowly lowered himself down onto Graham’s friend.
“Fuck,” Graham growled into Jere’s mouth. “I want in you. Now.”
Jere bit his lip, hard, before pulling away. He stared right into Graham’s eyes, drawing his bottom lip between his teeth. The wicked gleam in Jere’s eyes told Graham exactly what the man was thinking. Next time. Graham couldn’t agree more, but for now, he had a show to put on. No fucking way would he lose this competition. For once, he wanted win.
Jere walked around to the front of the couch while Graham simply stepped over the back of it and sat down on the center cushion. He reached for one of the condoms and a bottle of lube laying on the center table, eyes on his best friend fucking Darnel. Graham rolled a condom down his length. He gave himself a few hard strokes, eyes riveted to the sight of the thick vein along the underside of Nic’s cock disappearing into Darnel’s body. The two of them together made sex seem like a sport. It was all flexing muscles and sweat. There was no give and take, it was more like a tug of war, each trying to pull the other over with them. The vision held his attention until Jere stepped in front of him.
Graham had never seen anything more enthralling than Jere fingering his own ass, working lube into his hole. Graham brought his knees together a little as Jere backed up over him. He placed his hands on Jere’s hips and guided him back and down. The sensation of his cock sinking into Jere’s warm heat was so exquisite he couldn’t keep himself from bucking up the last few inches, forcing his length the rest of the way inside.
“Damn,” Darnel cursed.
“Goddamn,” Nic added.
Graham drew Jere back against his chest and stared straight across at his best friend as he thrust his hips hard and fast. He fingered Jere’s puckered nipple with his right hand, pinching it lightly. His left hand he ran up Jere’s arm, across his collarbone to grasp the man by his throat and tilt his head, giving Graham access to lick Jere from his sweat-slickened shoulder all the way up to his strong jawline.
Graham smirked when he saw Nic’s thrusts become erratic. If his friend came first, there was no way he could win. Somehow the bastard held on though, forcing Graham to try another approach. Once again, his experience with Jere was completely different than anything before. Graham reveled in his size and strength because it allowed him to pleasure Jere like no one else could.
Graham slid down a little and spread his legs, pushing Jere’s open wider as well. His heart leapt a little when Jere gave himself completely over to Graham’s control, lying back against his chest and allowing him to support all of his weight. Graham reached down and grabbed Jere by the back of his thighs, pulling the man’s legs up and back so he could fuck up into him, the new angle helping him hit his lover’s prostate with every thrust.
Graham pounded Jere’s ass, holding nothing back. Jere twitched and jerked every time Graham’s huge cock stabbed his sweet spot. Graham dug his fingers into the flesh of Jere’s thighs and doubled his efforts. Arms thrown over his head and latched behind Graham’s neck, Jere arched his back, every muscle in his body straining against his flesh as he screamed his release.
Hot white fluid shot across Jere’s chest all the way to Graham’s shoulder. He could feel Jere’s come sliding down his skin as his own come barreled all the way from his balls to explode from his cock. He roared his release, slamming into Jere as deep as he could go. What seemed like an eternity later, Graham slumped back against the sofa, the cool leather shocking against his heated flesh.
Jere was like a rag doll in his arms, completely limp and sated. Graham couldn’t resist placing a row of soft, gentle kisses along the back of Jere’s shoulder before wrapping his arms around the body that lay quivering against him. He took a moment to look over at his friend whose rhythm was now frantic. He could tell by the look on Darnel’s face that he was close. They would soon be enjoying their own moment of afterglow.
Breathing once again under control, Jere turned toward Graham, searching. Their lips met in a lazy kiss. Graham felt Jere’s lips pull up into a smile and he responded with one of his own as he tightened his arms around the first man to ever see past his size and right into his soul. From this night on Graham knew he would be spending his time learning to love this man and learning to let Jere love him in return. There were two other things Graham knew as well; Mardi Gras was his new favorite holiday and, when it came to pleasing his new lover, he was second to none.
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Gina A. Rogers is an amazon living in South Central Pennsylvania where she grew up and will never be allowed to forget she once sported a mullet. She has mild OCD issues with regards to symmetry and reading order and is obsessed with the letter V. She loves nerds and men who wield swords (pun intended), especially while wearing skirts of the tartan or even leather variety. Although she loves reading dark and tragic stories, the ones that play out in her head and find their way to paper are fun, snarky and always end happily ever after!