I don’t get it. I really can’t wrap my head around it. How are these two still able to form coherent sentences?
Dean lets his head fall down to my shoulder, cussing a whole variety of swearwords that I interpret as him enjoying the shit out of what’s going on. He bites down in the nape of my neck and when he simultaneously hits that one certain spot in me, I ignite. A warmness spreads from the base of my spine to all my extremities, my breath hitching and thus prolonging the orgasm that has taken possession out of me.
“Fucking hell, babe. The way you squeeze me should be illegal.” He grunts. “I don’t… Fuck… I don’t think… Fuck, Gil, don’t you dare fucking stop.”
I secretly glance at Gil. Did he just fuck Dean speechles, so he’s no longer able to dirty talk? The boys are both lost in their own sensations though. They keep going harder and harder, and before I know it, Dean is groaning loudly, his face contorted while I feel all his muscles tense. It actually takes him quite some time before he starts easing up.
When Dean stops thrusting into me, I can tell that he’s all done. The rocking doesn’t stop though, Gil still thrusting into Dean. I study his face in marvel as I see him chasing his own climax. He starts thrusting harder and harder as he not so softly bites his bottom lip, holds his breath and moans as he fucks himself through his orgasm until he finally stills.
We keep lying there for a moment, all of us catching our breaths, until Gil crawls off of Dean and lets himself slide next to me on the bed. Dean doesn’t even get fully off of me, just keeps his legs tangled through mine when he slides to the other side of me. Nobody talks, and I think I’m stroking both guys while I feel hands on my body softly caressing my skin. As much as I just want to keep being still like this, I’m way too curious to what just went on to keep silent.
“So, that just happened,” I start.
“Hm,” is all Gil has to say about it. He’s got his eyes closed and looks about as relaxed as he could be. He presses a soft kiss to my shoulder.
Dean just stays silent, and somehow that’s starting to freak me out. I’m starting to overthink things for him, because I’ve got no idea what’s going on inside him, and you can count on me to get a little dramatic.
“Are you okay?”
He opens his blue eyes to me, staring at me. “I’m okay.”
“Babe,” I answer, using the nickname he normally uses for me and the corner of his mouth pulls up. “I’m going to need a little more than that.”
“I’m okay, really.” He sighs and closes his eyes again. “Just afraid I’ve fucked up what I have going with you.”
“Why? Does this fuck things up?” I mean, I’m not having trouble with this. If they like touching each other, why the hell would that fuck things up with me?
“I don’t think so?”
“Why are you asking me? That shouldn’t be a question. You should know how you feel.” Now I am starting to freak out. Does this change things between us?
Gil has probably had enough of our amateuristic sexual weirdness and takes over. “Mor is freaking out, because she’s afraid you’re freaking out. Dean’s freaking out because he thinks Mor’s freaking out. None of the freaking out has anything to do with what just happened. Dean had fun, Mor had fun, I know for damn certain I had fun, and that’s all there is to it. Dean isn’t suddenly only into guys as far as I know. Mor isn’t suddenly repelled by Dean wanting to be with a guy. It just is what it is, guys. Stop freaking out, and start chilling the fuck out. Then, if you really think you need to have a conversation about this, have a conversation later. It’s not that complicated.”
I turn my head to Dean and fake whisper to him: “He’s so damn bossy, we’d better listen to him.”
“Shhhh,” Dean says, “we need to chill the fuck out.”
And so we do.