Page 21 of The Menagerie
“That’s the plan,” Leg Day replies.
He works his fingers around the rim, tugging and twisting while Malcolm’s rocking his hips against him. By the time he works in a third finger alongside Tweedle’s cock, Malcolm is practically whining for him toget on with it.
So he does.
Get on with it.
Rowan’s transfixed as he watches Leg Day slick his cock and press it into Malcolm’s hole beside Tweedle’s. It goes in like fuckingnothing, and shit, Rowan can feel himself getting hard again.
The response from the crowd around them is deafening, a chorus of “Fuck yeah” and “Take it” and “Fuckin’ slut”erupting from all sides, fighting over the increase in the slick sound of hands on skin.
And Malcolm fucking keens.
“Ooooooohhh…!”
The long drawn-out noise bursts from the back of his throat as he buries his face in the shoulder of the man beneath him, gripping his biceps.
All the porn in the world doesn’t compare to how he looks, how he sounds, as Leg Day pulls out halfway and thrusts in. Malcolm’s mouth forms a perfect O, and his eyes scrunch shut as Tweedle finally starts moving as well.
They may have been shit on their own, but together the two find a steady rhythm, one thrusting in as the other pulls out, keeping Malcolm stretched beautifully around both of them. And when Tats makes his way to the front of the bed and presents his cock to Malcolm, he deepthroats it immediately and moans wantonly.
Rowan’s mouth runs dry. Falls open. Hangs there for a few seconds before he gets a hold of himself and snaps it shut. Drops back open as one of the men fucking Malcolm comes with a groan and the other keeps fucking him, shaft coated in come.
Rowan feels hot all over. Numb at the fingertips.Fuck, he thinks,get it together.You’ve seen this shit hundreds of times.
But he hasn’t. Not really. Not in person.
Not with a greedy bottom who cries out in pleasure when he gets both his holes stuffed with cock. Most of the similar porn Rowan’s seen focuses on the pain, and Rowan’s never been into that. He gets off too hard on his partner enjoying himself to like seeing people in pain.
And Malcolm is definitelyenjoying himself. There isn’t a shadow of a wince on his face or a trace of an uncomfortable arch in his spine. Raw, openpleasure.
Rowan’s so transfixed that he misses the other guy coming entirely, only noticing when the men swap out.
Next up are Cupcake and Shortstop, the sheer size difference between the two men almost comical, but fuck if they don’t work well together. Cupcake is beneath, Malcolm almost unable to straddle his thick hips properly. But he’s clearly flexible enough, legs spread wide enough to reveal Cupcake’s pelvic bones protruding between Malcolm’s inner thighs.
Rowan wants to taste those thighs. Wants to run his hands over them with Malcolm spread out above him.
He’s going to zone out the rest of the night thinking of all the things he wants to do to Malcolm if he could only tell all the other guys in the room to fuck off. But he’s here to watch as much as he is to participate, and he forces himself to put aside his fantasies for a rainy day—or a sunny day, or anyday, really—and fully take in the beautiful sight of Malcolm surrounded by cock.
The men pair off with whoever’s nearby and pass Malcolm around, fucking him two at a time, almost everyone opting to sandwich Malcolm between them, one fucking up into him and the other joining in from behind. Anytime someone slips out, Malcolm barks a command to “Get the fuck back in me,” followed by a clipped moan when both cocks are back inside and thrusting into him.
Shirley Temple and the Van Damme guy get creative, both lying back on the bed with their asses and cocks pressed against one another, forcing Malcolm to squat low over them and take them side by side. He groans at the new stretch, uses their legs for leverage, and fucks himself down hard enough to bruise. He rides them until both their ends, miraculously showing few signs of exhaustion despite the brutal pace and position.
God, Rowan wants to wear him out until he can’tmoveor even think about it.
And much like earlier, Rowan’s tired of waiting. Tired of watching. He’s rock hard again and desperate to feel Malcolm around his cock alongside someone else.
Go out with a bang, or something like that.
He climbs on the bed for what feels like the twentieth time tonight, trying to not let his eagerness show but probably failing spectacularly. There’s a time and place for being aloof and uninterested, but here and now isn’t it.
No, he wants Malcolm to know how badly he wants him.
The little spark Rowan swears he sees in those gold eyes makes him wonder if he’s alone in that want.
“Think you can take me with someone else?” Rowan asks him.
“Still waitin’ for you to make me cry.”
