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Will lies in his bed, fast asleep as the sounds of the city ring distantly. It’s late, not so late that the city lights have dimmed in favor of the morning sun, but enough the whole sky is inky black.
He tosses and turns, brow knitted, limbs splayed out akimbo. For the Chicago weather it should be cold, freezing eve, but right now he feels boiling. Sweat trickles down his forehead, and were anyone to look it would seem he was in a state of extreme exertion.
Slowly his dick fills with blood, tenting his boxers beneath the sheets before inching out over the waistband. His breath is coming faster now, cock head dripping steadily onto his belly as he bites his lips.
A country away, Lito and Hernando lie together in their bed, faces illuminated by the pale moonlight streaming in from the side of their bed. It’s unseasonably warm, even for Mexico City, but even that is not enough to deter the two men.
They rut passionately, Lito’s hard member pressing inside Hernando with urgency, Hernando’s legs wrapped tightly around Lito’s body. They are pressed impossibly close, fucking for long minutes through the heat, but still it is not enough to slake their thirst.
It’s not been long enough that he can anticipate it, that he can even control it, not fully, but Lito feels his presence, eyes cast over his shoulder. Looking back he spots him, another man stands in the dark corners of the room, his breath hot and heavy, eyes heavy lidded with a combination of lust and sleep.
A sly smile parts Lito’s lips and he tilts Hernando’s head to the side so he cannot see him mouth, “únete a nosotros,” to the man.
Will looks on, startled slightly, and though he sees his lips move, and he knows that they do not form words he immediately understands, his brain supplies “join us” in a raspy voice and he inches closer.
“Is this a dream?” Will asks as he steps forward, watching the taut muscles of Lito’s back and well-toned ass pull taut before slamming back inside his lover again.
“Si esto es un sueño , entonces vamos a hacer la mayor parte de el,” Lito speaks, his voice fluid and sex-soaked. Will can feel that timbre drag him forward, like gasoline to a fire he didn’t realize was kindling.
His hands shake as he presses down his boxers, just as bare as the men in front of him, before hiking one knee up on the bed. Dimly he realizes this feels too real to be a dream, but this man in front of him with the dark eyes and bright smile has invited him to their bed, to join him. The words should not click in his head, but he knows what they mean as if they were written deep in his skin.
Will’s eyes flutter shut for a moment as he stills himself. This isn’t just a dream, but does that make it more real or less? His body wants, craves touch, even if he knows it isn’t physical. Maybe it’s this man, this sensate’s feelings being pushed through him, but part of him knows that is a lie. A lie coated in flimsy half-truths he tells himself so he need not face the real reason he did not decline, did not attempt to wake when he thought it only a dream.
Kneeling on the bed, he finds himself behind this man, tan skin slick with sweat, hot to the touch and ceaseless in movement. “¿Puedo tocarte ?” he whispers, words foreign on his tongue, and he realizes they are not his own language.
“Yes,” Lito whispers as he straightens his back, long lines of muscle flexing as he spreads his legs wider, hiking Hernando’s limbs onto his shoulders. HE knows his lover cannot feel what he feels, cannot see what he sees, but it helps maintain the illusion for him if he makes things work easier, simpler.
Gentle kisses brush down Lito’s back, sending shivers down his spine. Will’s fingers brush softly over defined flanks, tensing and releasing with each thrust.
Beneath Lito, Hernando is crying out in pleasure, face screwed up in the picture of bliss; Lito can only turn and smirk back at the paler man as if to say, “This is what I do.”
Will scoots closer, chest pressed to Lito’s back, hands wandering over his body, reaching in front. Fingertips drift down, down, down, feeling the trail of hair leading to where Lito and Hernando are connected by their passion.
“Lito, Lito, Lito,” Hernando chants, breathing hard, but smiling so brightly. It warms Lito’s heart, even if he knows he should not be doing this while he is taking his lover, but he can’t resist. Feels the warmth spreading across his back and his hunger and desire flame hotter, licking at his insides like the scorching summer sun.
A hard cock jabs Lito in the small of his back and he chuckles, bending to kiss his lover’s thigh. One hand wraps tight around Hernando’s member, stroking him slowly, teasingly, as his other winds around to grip Will’s ass and pull him closer.
“Quiero… Quiero follarte,” Will sighs, voice ragged and hitching as he feels his cock leak. Part of him feels the hard spandex brushing over his head, but that sensation is so dull, so minimal that it barely registers. All he feels, truly, is the heat coming from the two men in front of him.
Lito simply nods, bending over, doubling Hernando at the waist as he rocs gently into him.
Will pauses, watching the two lovers joined together in a beautiful union, and his body shakes with anticipation, with want. He licks his fingers, pressing them down to circle Lito’s entrance. He receives a startled, choked off laugh, slipping into a moan as his fingers press more.
Gripping the base of his cock, he rubs the head over the other man’s entrance, enticing more sighs of pleasure from his lips, before he grips his hips and begins to sink inside.
The feel is like nothing Will has felt before, nor Lito. For Will, the glide of his cock inside the tight heat of Lito’s body, the pressure of his walls clenching around him, is almost too much, forcing him to bite his hand to stifle a moan.
Lito however know how it feels when Hernando eases into him, and it feels nothing like this. The spare thoughts of rationality in his brain tell him it’s because the cock his mind believes is opening him up is not really there, a phantom appendage sinking inside him. All the same, it feels divine, filling him up just the way he likes.
They move with no rhythm, but great urgency. Hernando has been on edge for so long his lips are bitten red, red tinting his cheeks even through his beard. Lito can barely think straight with the overload of pleasure his body is experiencing, and Will, poor Will, feels as if he might cum already.
For a while the three men’s bodies roil, like crashing waves at the shore, before Lito stills.
“Here,” he whispers, taking Will’s hands and placing them on his hips. Slowly he teaches him, shows him how to thrust just so, how he drives Hernando to the point of breaking and pulls back. With a shiver, Will lets his head sink to Lito’s neck, kissing there as he mimics the motions.
It starts slow, uncoordinated, but with each thrust Lito leads him, and he learns how to snap his hips just so, to bury himself just right, and soon enough the only sounds to be heard are the lover’s combined cries of pleasure.
“La vuelta, vuelta para mi, amante,” Lito utters, voice wrecked as he licks into Hernando’s mouth. The man beneath him obliges, turning over. As he does so, Lito takes a moment to lean back, rolling his hips to catch just the head of Will’s cock between his cheeks and work it. His fingers thread into Will’s short hair, pulling him into a searing kiss. “Lito,” he whispers, so quiet not even Hernando can hear him over his own moans.
“W-Will,” the other stutters, fingers near bruising at Lito’s hips.
Soon they move in tandem, as one writhing, moaning being with each thrust getting harder and faster. They’re building to a crescendo bigger, louder, brighter than anything any of them have ever known.
“Dios, Dios!” Hernando cries, then resumes his chanting of “Lito, Lito,” over and over. He’s never felt Lito fuck him this hard, this fast. They don’t always go slow, but there is urgency in this moment, a spark unlike the man he knows. The familiar patterns have fallen away, startling his body into submission and the heights of pleasure with each thrust. There’s so much force behind him that he’d swear Lito had the strength of two men as he cries out, gripping Lito’s arms tight as he shudders through an intense orgasm.
Will’s eyes flick up at the sounds coming from in front of him, but Lito does not still, undulates his hips back and forth, working both men into a frenzy. His kisses are like fire, nipping at Will’s lips, tongue flitting across them in a smooth glide.
“No puedo , no puedo sostenerlo!” Will cries, hips thrusting harder, unsteady as he grips the other man tighter.
Lito fucks himself on Will’s cock harder, still working his lover, but focusing on his own pleasure just as much, seeing that the other has already slaked his thirst. The tight heat of Hernando and beautiful fullness of Will finally push him over the edge as he falls forward, collapsing as he cums inside his lover.
Will can only manage one more shaky thrust after feeling Lito wring him out before he’s cumming hard.
He gasps, clutching the sheets as he snaps awake in his bed; cool Chicago air drifting in and mixing with his overheated skin. His boxers and chest are filled with the remnants of his climax, his lips keep trying to let Lito’s name fall from them.
“What the fuck?” he pants, breathless, as he remembers in lurid, vivid detail how he’d just come from psychically fucking one of his cluster members. Pulling off his boxers, he uses them to wipe him off a bit before pulling the sheets back up to keep out the wintry air. As much as he tells himself it means nothing, a part of him hopes that it happens again and maybe next time he can have Lito all to himself.