“C’mon, Miguel. Take the suit off and get on the bed.”
Miles’ hand froze around the handle upon hearing those words come from Peter’s mouth. His body went rigid in front of the door, he almost dropped the papers documenting his last mission and his heart raced as he realized what he had stumbled on.
He doesn’t know why, but he can’t get himself to move, as much as his brain is screaming at him to do so. He simply stays there, a mix of horror and embarrassment crushing at him like a tidal wave. He then shakily moves away his hand to press it against his stomach.
Is his stomach revolting in disgust or fluttering with excitement? He’s not so sure that he wants to know the answer to that.
He hears the bed creaking, followed by the unmistakable sound of the sheets ruffling, and he shudders. Miles hears Miguel groan and it leaves his mouth watering. He tries not to think too much about that particular response, swallowing, feeling somewhat lightheaded.
He finds it difficult to force himself to take a deep breath and walk away, as his curiosity only grows now that he knows for sure that Miguel and Peter are hooking up. A deprived part of him wants to know the dynamic between them, needs to know how they would act with him in between their bodies.
There was the sound of kissing, wet and desperate noises muffled in between moans and whines. The bed moves again, and Miles hears another shaky breath – he can’t tell exactly whose mouth it came from.
Peter’s voice comes again, speaking low and seductive, something Miles never thought he’d hear. He’s saying things, filthy things he’d never believe him capable of whispering, least of all to Miguel.
About Miguel.
Miles felt his eyes glisten over with desperation, his breath stuttering at the delicious sounds coming from inside Miguel’s bedroom. Despite the shame he feels unfurling in his chest, there’s a familiar heat pooling deep in his gut.
“Hm, look at you.” Peter hums appreciatively, running a hand down Miguel’s torso. “Been wanting to have you like this.”
Miles fights himself from pushing the door open, knowing that if he made any noise they would notice. He’s thankful that Peter’s spider-sense hasn’t acted up or he’d be screwed. Or dead. Possibly both.
“You’re so hard already!” Peter teases, squeezing Miguel’s throbbing cock, and Miguel makes a low sound in response. “Gonna suck you off, ‘kay?”
“Wait, Peter – “ Miguel whines, and wow, Miles never thought he’d ever hear that. “Check my pockets.”
Miles figures that he’d activated his suit again when he sees a dim light flash from the gap underneath the door. Miles slowly lowers himself to the ground, folding his legs underneath him with his thighs grinding against one another.
“Ay, carajo! Not there!” Miguel slaps Peter’s hands away from his ass. “My side pockets, Peter.”
“Yeah, okay.” Peter breathes out, his hands roaming down his sides until his fingers finally find it. He shoves his hand inside, then takes out a small bottle. “Ooh, you’ve been really needing this, huh?”
“Cállate and undress already.” Miguel murmurs, snatching the lube out of his hand, before slapping his other on his clothed hips, signaling at him to take off his suit.
There’s more tousling of fabric as Peter seemingly takes off his robe and slips out of the spandex. The sound slowly changes to the brush of skin against skin and it makes Miles’ nerves light up with excitement.
Peter leans in, propping himself on his forearms as he lightly brushes his pelvis against Miguel’s, grinding his erection against his stomach. Miguel reaches out and slides a hand down his back and toward his entrance, lubing it up and massaging it. Peter groans into his mouth, takes Miguel’s hand in his and forces him to get two digits inside him.
“Just like that, Miggy.” Peter sighs, pushing back against the delicious stretch. “Please – Fuck, I’m prepped, just fuck me already.”
“Peter – “ Miguel takes his fingers out and instead wraps them around his cock, nudiging it against Peter’s hole. Peter pushes down, hurries him to get the tip inside.
“Wonder if he’d be begging for your massive dick by now.” Peter moans as he begins sliding on Miguel’s length, quick and desperate.
Miles hears Miguel take a trembling breath, receiving Peter’s words like a punch to the gut, and feels himself throb at the intensity of his arousal. He can’t help but wonder who they’re talking about.
“Mierda, Peter. We really shouldn’t – “ He was cut off when Peter finally bottoms out, giving an experimental roll of his hips.
“But you’re enjoying it so much, baby.” Peter’s coos at him, leaning down and licking underneath his jaw. His pity seems somewhat ingenuine, as if he’s making fun of Miguel instead of soothing him.
“We can’t, he's just a kid – “ Miguel tries, but any authority slips out of his voice with the wrecked moan that follows, and he buckles his hips into Peter. His head falls back into the pillow, his face twisting in pleasure.
“But we can.” Peter sighs with how full he is. “Besides,” He forces out, “what he doesn’t know can’t hurt him, right?”
“It doesn’t matter – “
“It’s just a fantasy that gets you going. It gets us off and he doesn’t need to know about it.” Peter kisses him hard on the mouth to shut him up from any upcoming argument. “It gets to be our little secret.”
“I can barely look him in the eye anymore.” Miguel cries out when Peter sits up, his hole squeezing on his cock as he takes it in its’ entirety.
“There’s a lot else to look at,” Peter chuckles, his breaths arractic. He uses his thighs to push himself up and then slowly drops his weight down, mewling at the slide of the length inside him. “Him and his little suit that’s too damn tight in the back. It’s almost like he’s teasing us on purpose.”
Miles chokes on his spit when he recalls the amount of times people have told him that. But he quickly dismisses that thought because as much as he wants them to talk about him this way, that’s merely his arousal speaking.
He looks back at the empty hallway behind him, then presses his ear back on the smooth door and sneaks a hand in between his thighs to rub at his leaking pussy. He hisses at the feeling of the damp fabric sticking to his lips and then grinds against his palm, careful to not make any more sounds in the process.
He almost curses when he hears the noise that comes from Miguel, a wrecked sob that falls out his lips at the imagery Peter painted for him. “Did you see – fuck, especially with that little sheer fabric he added on the back.”
“Think he goes commando under? like you?” Peter brings Miguel’s hand towards his hair, and Miguel tugs, earning a whine from him.
“Carajo, I hope so.” Miguel keeps working on their rhythm, thrusting up when Peter grinds down and slowly building it up to a quicker pace that has them both panting. “Dios, me tiene loco – can’t concentrate when he’s all over the place.”
“Yeah? Tell me more.” Peter’s smile is evident in his voice.
Miles guesses that he’s grown used to Miguel switching to Spanish when he gets into it, but damn does it get him going. His voice is dripping deliciously with a heavy accent, which slips into his English vocabulary as well.
“He’s so small, climbing all over me to get my attention.” Miguel is flushed at the memory, his voice shaking and trembling the more he speaks. “I know I shouldn’t – that I shouldn’t think about it so much, but shock me, his thighs are the size of my hand, Peter.”
“Believe me, baby, I know.” There’s a sharp noise coming from the bed, and Miles heavily suspects that Miguel had just ripped the sheets with his claws. “Bet you could shut him up with those fingers of yours.”
The bed shakes as Miguel begins wiggling underneath Peter, who simply looks down at him with a soft expression. He watches the arch in his brows, the way his mouth is flushed and gaping, his entire face twisting in a stinging kind of pleasure.
“Put your fingers in my mouth, Miguel.” He demands, feeling his own cock twitch at the idea that had popped in his mind.
Miguel moves and takes a hold of his waist, tightens his fingers to a point where Peter will surely bruise the following day. He slides Peter to meet his thrusts, fast and hard. He then brings up a shaking hand, which Peter takes by the wrist, before shoving his middle and ring finger into his mouth.
The moment his rough skin touches his mouth Peter slides his eyes shut, visibly blissed out, melting into his touch.
It forces his mouth to hang open, and despite stuffing it full, all it does is muffle the moans that only intensify at the sensation. Peter gives one particular squeeze around Miguel’s cock when he directly presses on his prostate.
“Please, Miguel, baby.” He cries out around the digits, reaching down to wrap a hand around the one that is scratching his skin. He holds it there, rocking back and forth, throwing his head back as the heat pools in his lower stomach.
“Ay, Dios mío.” Miguel hisses, feeling a flash of heat at the way Peter shuddered. He feels his thighs pressing harder against his legs, urging him to move faster. “Say that again.”
“Please, Miguel.” He repeats with the same mocking tone he had used to sooth him from his shame. He licks and drools onto his thick fingers, moaning brokenly around them.
“You’d have to teach him, wouldn’t you? You’d have to show his pretty pussy how to take my cock.” Miguel said lowly into his ear, nibbling his fangs on the skin underneath it. “Maybe he’d ask for yours too. Beg for us to fill him up in both his little holes.”
Miles gasps into his hand, rubbing himself faster though the suit, almost mewling at the feeling of his own slick sticking to his fingers through the fabric. He feels his entrance squeeze at nothing, begging to be the one Miguel and Peter are talking about.
He imagines how it would feel, to have Miguel’s fat cock ruining his cunt while he cries and sobs for Peter to fill his ass too. He’d be so full, fingers stuffed into his mouth as he gags around the moans he lets out.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Peter vocalizes Miles’ internal thoughts. “I’m close, so close.”
Miguel shushes him, pressing on his prostate with each movement he makes, making Peter’s cock spill precum all over his torso. Peter’s arms give out and he collapses on Miguel’s chest, his forehead against Miguel’s shoulder.
“You’re dripping all over the place.” Miguel says with a deep chuckle, looking up at him through fucked out eyes. “You wouldn’t even last a minute inside him.”
“I would.” Peter shakes his head, biting Miguel’s neck in protest. “I would treat him so good.”
“You think?” Miguel rubs his ass, helping him move as his thighs are shaking so hard he can barely keep himself up anymore. “I think you’d enjoy yourself too much and leave him a crying desperate mess.”
Peter went rigid, a little noise punched out of him like a groan. “Miguel – I’m gonna cum – “
Miguel laughs quite loud and the noise travels through the room, straight to Miles’ throbbing clit. It’s a mean, condescending sound that makes his legs weak and his knees buckle.
Suddenly, Miguel stopped his movements altogether and all the noise died down. Peter curses and slaps him lightly on the chest in protest.
“See?” Miguel wraps his fingers around Peter’s cock so hard it punches a choked sound out of him, his body desperate for release. “How about you show me how long you manage to hold yourself back, si? Think about poor little Miles, filled with your cum before he even gets to enjoy himself.”
Hold on.
What?
At that, Miles’ half lidded eyes immediately snap open, now completely aware of the situation. He forces his body to stand up, his thighs pressed together, still rubbing at his wetness. He dares to slide the door open, just a little, and finally sees the entire scene.
Peter is sitting on Miguel’s cock, filled to the brim, leaning back to grasp at his thighs in order to keep himself upright. Miles can’t really see his face, but he can definitely make out Miguel’s, who looks just as wrecked as Peter sounds.
His heart is beating out of his chest at the realization that they were, in fact, referring to him the entire time. It wasn’t a fantasy anymore, some stupid scenario Miles often fucked himself to. Now he knows his desire is required not only by one of them, but both of them. Is he really that desirable?
Time seemed to slow down, with Peter being denied any stimulation and Miguel simply staring up at him with a small, mocking smile. His entire face is flushed, his body glistening with sweat, enhancing his muscles.
Then Peter fights Miguel’s hands off of his cock and pins his wrists down to his chest. Spider strength does come in handy in these types of situations, it seems.
“Pretend I’m him.” He whispers so quietly Miles almost doesn’t hear him. He starts to move on Miguel’s cock again – this time there’s no buildup, straight up rapid grinding, leaving Miguel groaning with overstimulation.
“What?”
“You heard me, Miggy.” Peter demands and tightens his grip around his wrist to make his point. “Close your eyes and say his name when you fuck me.”
“Peter – “
“Not my name, sweetheart. Try again.” Peter keeps his pace, forcing himself to remain calm at the wet slide of Miguel’s cock ruining his insides.
“Peter, please – “
Peter then cocks his head to the side, as if confused by Miguel’s refusal. “But baby, don’t you moan his name while you fuck your own hand, watching him through your screens like a desperate creep? You enjoy it, don’t you? Imagining it was your fingers in his pussy and your hand pressing his face into his bed?”
With that, Miguel’s resolve breaks and Peter lets go of his wrists, watching with anticipation as the man holds his waist and slams him down on his cock. Peter shudders, sensitive in all the right places when Miguel scratches the skin on his lower back.
“Miles,” Miguel whispers weakly at first, but it grows confident and lustfull the more he speaks.
The heat that shocks through Peter at that is almost enough to make him come right then and there. Miguel feels him tense and soothes him, stroking his hair and kissing his throat.
Peter imagines the small teen in between them, his little cunt pressing against his cock, his swollen lips caressing his tip so sweetly, accompanied by a shy look on his face.
He imagines that Miles would wiggle uncontrollably, overstimulated by the tiniest touches. Miguel would be moaning his name as Peter rubbed his flushed clit, massaging him so slow he’d have him sobbing. He’d beg for them to move faster, to fuck him harder, but they would simply take their time in breaking the boy.
“You wanna cum, Miles?” Miguel flutters his eyes open, looking up at Peter, then down at his leaking cock. “Touch your clit, mi vida. Make yourself feel good.”
Peter knows if he touches his cock now, he’ll finish almost immediately, so he begins touching his chest instead, rolling his nipples under his thumbs. Miguel seems to get the idea and looks at him like he pities him for doing so, sliding a hand to hover above his cock.
“Not yet?” Miguel moans, teasing Peter with his fingers, lightly tracing them over his tip, yet not pressing hard enough to cause any significant stimulation. “Que buen chico eres, esperándote por mi.”
Miles almost falls back onto his knees when he hears Miguel talking like that, knowing now that it’s how he would’ve addressed him if he were fucking him instead. He’d praise him and it would make him so hot because that’s exactly what he’s been imagining all along.
“Tan apretado, tan rico.” Miguel gasps into Peter’s mouth, who’s drooling all over his chin in the process. “Tan bueno, sucking me in like that.”
Peter gasps as he feels Miguel’s fingers pressing on his lower back, his talons extended. He grazes them over him, just enough to arouse. Peter thinks of all the scars Miguel would leave on Miles’ little thighs, perhaps when he’s eating him out, and suddenly feels lightheaded.
He lowers himself, growing significantly tired at Miguel’s roughness, his skin buzzy where his head is pressed into his shoulder, hot breaths against his throat. Hearing Miguel’s labored breathing in his ear makes him curl around his body, letting him do all the work.
“Tired, nenito?” Miguel murmurs to him, a wondering tone to his voice. “What do you need, sweetheart?”
Peter shakes his head, afraid that if he speaks he might ruin Miguel’s enjoyment. But Miguel kisses and licks the side of his neck, encouraging him with praises to do the opposite – to speak his mind, all while still referring to him as Miles.
“Lift my hips, please? Need you deeper inside.” He manages to gasp, before he feels a large hand cupping his ass on both sides, obliging to his request.
“Asi?”
“Yes, yes.” Peter cries out, arching as his prostate is being stimulated again, Miguel’s fat tip rolling over the bundle of nerves just right, lighting hot flashes of arousal up his back.
“Needed me to help you out? Couldn’t even lift your little hips? Had to make me do all the work, eh, Miles?” Miguel coos, feeling his own cock throb at the humid air surrounding them. He knows he would’ve done it regardless of Miles’ capacity to hold himself up.
Miles sees how the roleplay pushes them further towards the edge, Miguel muttering both in Spanish and English, pressing his lips to Peter’s neck, who’s making visible effort to get his hips to grind back on the cock inside him.
Miles is feverish as he watches them, his eyes widened, taking in everything in front of him with a thirst he didn’t know he had in him. His cunt is burning with the need to be filled, dripping slick all over his trembling thighs. His stomach is uneasy with excitement and arousal, his gut twisting and turning as he tries to stop himself from stepping into the room.
“Gonna come?” Miguel manages to ask, more concentrated on keeping up his pace than what he’s letting out of his mouth.
Peter nods his head, apparently giving up on forming words all together. His walls clench and relax around Miguel’s throbbing cock, his pulse jumping with each harsh thrust that he receives. He’s panting and gasping, the air knocked out of his lungs.
“You promised to treat Miles like he deserves, right?” Miguel shakes his head, fond, but he was lifting his hips anyway. “You have to satisfy him before you get to cum.”
Peter nodded furiously, tucking his face into Miguel’s neck and grabbing at his hair, urging him to finish. Miguel groans as his head is being pulled back, his jaw hanging open, and Miles thinks he sees his fangs extend. He whimpers at the sight, wondering how his canine teeth would feel on his skin, perforating it, drawing out blood.
“Miguel – “
“Not my name.” Miguel quickly corrects, slapping Peter on his back. Peter jumps at his touch, arching further into it, and Miguel lets out a breathy laugh, partly amused and mostly turned on.
Before Peter could get another word out Miguel moves his head and searches blindly for Peter’s mouth, before catching his lips on his own, wetting them with a kiss. He laps and tugs at him, slides his tongue over his teeth and over his tongue.
Peter sighs into it, kneeing at the feeling of his chest and torso rubbing against Miguel’s. He can’t help but clench his eyes close and picture Miles’ petite body in between them, sandwiched until all he breathes in is them. His little squirming would drive him insane – it does in general, even if it’s not under any sexual context. Everything Miles does is incredibly erotic and so frustratingly effortless.
“Miles, Miles, Miles – “ Peter chants into Miguel’s mouth while hurrying his hands in his hair.
“Así, mi vida – fuck, justo así.” Miguel says in response, digging his nails into Peter’s ass, scratching him all the way down to his thighs. He chokes, wishing with everything he has that he could do that to Miles’ as well.
“Want him so much, Miguel.” Peter cries out, hissing at the sensation of the wounds inflicted by Miguel’s delicious touch. “Want to fuck him so good, he’d be so good.”
Miles recognizes some kind of emotion in his voice, but he can’t tell exactly what it is. Peter’s voice breaks and wavers, as if it’s taking everything in him to say it. Miles catches a small smile tugging on Miguel’s lips, his eyes softening with an understanding that Miles can’t seem to grasp.
“Si? You’d know how to treat him, Peter?” Miguel soothes him, ignoring the continuous digging he feels at his scalp.
The needy noise Peter makes at that sends a shiver down Miles’ spine and before he gathers what it forces out of him, Miguel begins pushing Peter back on his knees. Miles shudders in anticipation for what’s coming, loving the gentleness the two men are showing, wanting to be on the receiving end of it.
Once Peter’s cock is visible again, Miguel takes it in his hand and begins pumping it rapidly. Peter feels his toes curl at the heat of his huge palm, bucking his hips into his fist as he jerks him in time with the movement of his hips. The look on Peter’s face was vulnerable; his eyes closed, his brows scrunched in desperation and his mouth open in a silent moan.
“You can cum, Peter. You did good.” Miguel tells him, his free hand traveling towards his working thigh and squeezing, giving him a sense of reassurance.
When he finally does, the force of it has his ears ringing, his legs going taut. Peter feels himself clenching around him, feels when Miguel cums inside him as well, pushed over the edge by the sight of his own. Distantly, he could hear Miguel’s praise, his short breaths and his groans, all poured out by his ear, only for him to consume. His cock is nicely coated by his own cum, Miguel’s fingers working on him up and down, rubbing him just right. His voice is quiet but low and ragged and then hears another.
It’s a soft gasp followed by a whimper, a noise he certainly doesn’t recognize as Miguel’s or his own.
Before he gets to look at Miguel for confirmation, his spider-sense goes off with a concerning intensity, pressing on his temples and earning a pained noise out of him. He instinctively turns his head around, peering at the door behind him and immediately sees it – an eye peeking at them through a small gap.
Then, it slides shut.
His eyes meet Miguel’s, noted the same look of concern. Peter carefully climbs off of Miguel’s cock and signals at him to activate the suit while he slips his robe around his nude form.
Once he makes sure they’re both fully dressed, with his heart beating in his throat, he moves to get off the bed, approaching the door. Miguel follows behind him, his own darkened expression taking over as they lure over the handle, unsure.
Peter catches his gaze briefly, almost chuckling at his anxious pout if it weren’t for the nerve wrecking circumstances. He brings his hand out and pulls the door open in a sharp movement.
And there was Miles’ flushed face looking up at him, his rounded eyes blown out in panic, his hands frozen a few inches away from his chest, as if he was halfway taking a step back when Peter and Miguel revealed themselves.
He looks good enough to eat.
Miguel, after doing his own share of the staring, glances at Peter and sees how his eyes roam over the boy’s body. He then follows down to where he is looking, his gaze zeroing on Miles' quivering legs, a dark patch in between his thighs.
He had heard everything.
“I’m sorry!” Miles blurts out, seeing as neither of them were planning on saying anything anytime soon. His hands are shaking as he brings them to his chest, tugging at the fabric of his suit.
He couldn’t maintain eye contact, looking everywhere but at the two men in front of him. He keeps muttering apologies, stumbling on his words as he backs up from the door, ready to bolt at any given moment.
“Miles – “ Miguel steps forward, attempting to get his attention.
“I was just – “ Miles says, desperately trying to explain himself. “I just wanted to give you the report on the last mission, but then I – I swear I didn’t – “
“It’s alright.” Miguel says a little louder, his tone unexpectedly understanding, and Miles has to restrain himself from cringing at the slight authority it holds. “Can you take a breath for me?”
Miles chokes at his choice of words, fighting the urge to strike him with a bolt of electricity. Instead, he tries his best to do as told, inhaling deeply, then breathing out. He can see Miguel nod as he does so, his eyes following his movements.
“How much did you hear?” Miguel’s voice is low when he speaks, questioning him very slowly and clearly, as if one wrong move would scare away Miles like a stray cat. It might.
“Miguel,” Miles whispers, finally looking up to meet his gaze. “I swear I wanted to leave but then – I just heard and I froze! I won’t tell anyone, I promise! We can just pretend this didn’t happen and – “
“We’re not mad at you, kid.” Miguel cuts him off, unfolding his hands from over his chest in an attempt to appear less intimidating. “But we probably shouldn’t leave you alone just like that.”
Miles’ eyes widen more than he thought was possible and his lower lip trembles at the thought that he might not get off easy on this one. His gaze flickers from Miguel’s concerned expression to Peter’s panicked one, before settling back on the floor.
Peter sees his hesitation and finally regains his composure as he says, “Miles, he’s right. We can’t let you leave without talking about it first, so why don’t you come in? We can get you something to drink while you calm down, okay?”
Miles nods his head, trying to shut out the sound of Peter walking back Into the room and arranging it to at least look half decent. His face burns at the sound of the ruffling sheets, suddenly remembering the vivid noises of the two men pulling on them as they finished.
“I’m sorry, Miles. You shouldn’t have heard that.” Miguel sighs, his voice horribly close to genuinely ashamed. He tries to show Miles that he’s calm, but Miles can see the way his hands shake and his brows twitch ever so slightly.
“No, I’m sorry.” Miles insisted, digging his nails into his palms. “I should’ve left when I – “
“Hey, no. We’re not doing that.” Miguel lowers his head and raises his eyebrows, then pauses for a moment, seemingly struggling to find the words. “Don’t blame yourself for our wrongdoing, me entiendes? We did this without your consent, which even if we had, you’re a minor. It’s highly inappropriate.”
Miles instinctively brings his hands down to cover his crotch, still utterly embarrassed of how wet he was despite barely touching himself. He ignores how Miguel glances down for a moment – a second so short he would’ve missed it if he wasn’t so infatuated by the new discovery. Miguel wants him. Miguel and Peter want him.
Then, Peter walks up to them, his lower body now properly covered with a gray pair of sweatpants that did nothing to hide what Miles saw just minutes before. He looks down at him, up at Miguel and then back at Miles, who’s still waiting for permission to enter the bedroom. The two men hovering over him in the doorway are not helping his throbbing pussy.
Miguel seems to notice the struggle with his trembling legs and offers him a hand, dismissing any signs of arousal coming from the teen. If Miles is lucky enough, he would simply brush it off as embarrassment.
“Are your legs numb?”
Or maybe not. Somehow that conclusion is so much worse, especially because it draws Peter’s eyes to his thighs. Miles sucks in a breath and hums weakly, reaching out to take his hand.
Miguel helped him to get to the bed, letting him sit on it. Miles looked around him, taking in his surroundings, his eyes settling on the small signs of sex that Peter couldn’t cover up; the humid smell in the air, the crumpled sheets, the bottle of lube that ended up under the nightstand.
Miguel clears his throat again, sheepishly scratching the side of his face. “Why don’t you get cleaned up? I’ll get you some clothes and send your suit for cleaning, alright? And then we can talk.”
Miles forces himself to nod for the hundredth time, practically on autopilot with how badly he wanted to be out of there. Miguel hands him a wet cloth and orders him to wait until he comes back, all while Peter stands behind him, simply observing.
Funnily enough, Miles feels warmth spreading on his crotch before something wet oozes out of him. He involuntarily groans, trying to play it off as his frustration getting the best out of him. He knows he gives himself away with the constant nibbling at his lower lip and the continuous pressing of his thighs.
He isn’t sure how long he and Peter stay there, silently avoiding each other’s eyes, praying for Miguel to come back. Miles tilts his head up and glances at Pater, taking in his figure, thinking back on what he’d already seen. A part of him is trying to make him as uncomfortable as possible and force him to face him.
It’s amusing to see how he’s acting considering he’s the one who started the whole deal.
When Peter finally turns to look at him, keeping his face carefully blank, Miles wears the best pout he can muster. He’s trying to gather all his embarrassment into one place, attempting to force himself to tear up like he did minutes before. He can’t really tell if it’s working until Peter finally breaks and lets out a pitiful noise.
Miles moves to the furthest corner of the bed and Peter takes that as permission to come sit next to him.
“I’m sorry, kiddo.” Is all he says, his shoulders slumped in defeat. Miles’ mouth falls open at his audacity, gasping in disbelief as he unfolds his arms and drops his legs to the floor.
“Fuck you, man! Don’t call me that after you came saying my name!” Miles exclaims, shaking his head before burying it into his hands. His voice comes muffled when he continues, “You’re such an asshole, Peter.”
“I know, I’m sorry.” Peter repeats and it only infuriates him more. “After everything it took to make things between us okay, I had to go and be a creep about it.”
Miles is taken aback by that, his upcoming insult dying out in his throat. He contemplates on the reason behind Peter’s statement and then realizes that he hasn’t told either of them that he liked what he heard. They don’t know how long he’s been fantasizing and getting off to the exact same scenario they did.
A silence stretches through the room, just toeing the line of discomfort, and then Peter reaches out to place his hand on Miles’ thigh and gives it a light squeeze. Miles knows it’s supposed to be a comforting gesture but he can’t help the fluttery feeling that takes over his chest. He looks up at Pete and finds him watching in return, an intensity filling his gaze.
Miles opens his mouth to speak but Peter beats him to it, “So, in the hallway there, were you, uh – “
“Okaaay, nope! We’re not – we’re not going there.” Miles laughs nervously, his body still frozen at Peter’s touch. “Just – nuh uh.”
Peter respects his answer for a few moments, going quiet as he turns over the question in his mind, and Miles knows very well that in just a few seconds his patience would break.
“Did you like it?” Peter blurts out and there it is, just as Miles had predicted.
Miles feels his stomach drop, filling with anxiety. Peter tries to meet his eyes to convey how much curiosity he is holding back, but Miles keeps his gaze steady on the floor, ignoring the way his face burns at his attention.
“Peter, I don’t – I don’t know.” Miles confesses. And he really doesn’t, now that he’s met the reality of the situation. It’s unnerving.
“It’s okay, Miles.” Peter chuckles before withdrawing his hand. He doesn’t miss when Miles’ eyes follow it with heartbreak written all over his face. “You don’t have to answer that.”
The silence continues and just as Miles is settling in it, Peter speaks up again.
“Did you – “
“Peter!” Miles cries out, bringing his hands to hold his head and hide his embarrassment, whimpering into his palms when he feels Peter’s gaze on him. “Can you stop asking me questions you already know the answers to?”
“But I don’t know.” Peter insists, his knee bumping against Miles’ in a playful manner. “Not until you tell me. So, did you get to come, at least?”
Miles doesn’t think he’s ever felt this frustrated. He feels like he might combust and take the entire room and Peter and Miguel with the force of his body exploding. Or he might simply implode and cease from existing.
He looks up at Peter, sees how he’s looking at him and turns back to focus on the tile underneath his feet. Huh, he’s been doing that a lot these last few minutes.
He doesn’t understand if Peter’s questions are part of the upcoming conversation Miguel mentioned or if this is his attraction getting the best out of him. Miles doesn’t know how to express this, but now that he knows how much they want him he feels like he has to say something or he might lose the best opportunity life has ever given him.
Miles stares down, so deeply concentrated in his internal conflict that he doesn’t notice when Miguel steps back into the room. He misses the way Peter signals at him to wait for a moment, eagerly waiting for Miles’ answer.
When Miles attempts to speak, he does the mistake of looking up at him. He doesn’t know what expression he is making, but Peter goes very still, staring back with the same intense look he’s been eyeing him with the entire time. Miles can’t decipher what it means, but he’s starting to understand that he somewhat likes it.
Miguel clears his throat, clearly amused, and Peter snaps from the trance he was in to quickly glare at him.
Miguel approaches them with a fresh set of clothes in his hand and gently places them in Miles’ grasp while his other unoccupied one finds Peter’s neck. Miles doesn’t get up from where he is on the bed, instead awkwardly grabbing the clothes in his hands and using them to cover his lower body.
“Can we talk about it now?” It takes almost all his courage to say it. “I think I’m gonna die if we keep waiting.”
Miguel throws his head back with a sigh, his hands coming up to grab at his hips. “Fine. So, just to clarify, you were waiting to turn in the report?”
“Yes!” Miles cries out, detecting a tone in his voice – one that tells him Miguel doesn’t quite believe him. “I already asked you for more time to finish it and I was running late – I just wanted to get it done, I swear.”
“I believe you, Miles.” He responds, but the disapproval doesn’t leave his words just yet. “And you didn’t leave the paperwork with Lyla because…?”
“I froze, man.” Miles frowns at him, annoyance growing firmer in the back of his head like a headache. “I come in here and – and I hear you two going at it, I was just shocked, okay? And then you started saying my name so I got even more confused and I just – I just froze. I didn’t know what to do.”
He breathes in after his rant, collecting himself. Once again, he sees Peter share a certain look with Miguel and he doesn’t know what to make of it. He brings his knees to his chest, feeling too vulnerable to his liking.
He hears another big sigh, this time coming from Peter’s mouth. He’s rubbing at his face, holding the bridge of his nose, and the stress in it makes him look somewhat sharper. Miles doesn’t know if he likes it or not.
“I really am sorry!” He quickly blurts out, desperately trying to get them to believe him. “I didn’t mean to do this to you guys.”
Miguel’s expression twitches at that, and apparently it was the wrong thing to say because he barks out a condescending laugh, one that he’d only heard when he first met the man. Miles curls into himself, ashamed.
“Tu puta madre no lo querías.” He mutters under his breath, before looking up and tilting his head at Miles. “Then explain to me why you opened that door and watched us, si? Because that bit is still unclear.”
Miles opens his mouth, snaps it shut, then opens it again only to stumble on his explanation, immediately giving himself away. Peter sees his distress and offers him a small smile before grabbing at his shoulder. Miles immediately falls silent, anxiously waiting for a reaction.
“Don’t mind Miguel. He’s just bitter because this whole situation is pretty shitty.” He pauses for a moment before correcting himself, “Not that you made it shitty! I mean, you kinda did but – “
“Peter.” Miguel interrupts.
“Yeah, sorry, sorry.” He holds up his arms in defeat. “What I’m meaning to say, is that I get it, you were curious. So… we’re sorry too. You really shouldn’t have seen that. Or been in this situation because maybe you did want to see that? I mean – “
“Peter, shut up.” Miguel repeats.
“Shutting up.”
Miles feels the corners of his lips slightly tug up at their interaction, followed by a weight lifting off his shoulders. Then, it crashes back down on him when he’s reminded of the situation he’s in.
“Uh…” He isn’t sure how to continue, but Peter is squeezing his shoulder, urging him on. “Why me, though? Is it just because I’m underage? Like a fetish thing?”
Their reactions to that statement take him by surprise; he lifts his gaze when Peter digs his fingers into his skin, and sees the way he leans into him, his eyebrows raised in alarm. On the other hand, Miguel takes a step forward and hesitates for a moment – his hands frozen midair as if not knowing what to do with them. Then, he falls to his knees and places them on each of Miles’ thighs.
“Miles, no.” Peter whispers, sounding strangled. “No, sweetheart.”
Miles shudders at the pet name, his lips trembling with all the emotion he is feeling. His chest squeezes with how much he wants, yet unable to get any of it, too afraid of making Miguel and Peter even more uncomfortable.
“Then why?” He dares himself to ask, his eyes dancing between Peter and Miguel.
“Shit, Miles…” Peter shakes his head, and Miles braces himself for what the upcoming response could be. “You’re asking us why we wanna fuck you?”
He asks it in a way that allows him to understand that it should be obvious to him by now. And it would be, if he weren’t so baffled by the possibility that the two men he’s been pining over share the same feeling. At least in the sexual aspect, it seems.
“I mean, yeah? I still don’t really understand why you guys wanna… want me?” He murmurs, nervously tugging at the fabric of his suit.
“Just look at yourself.” Peter points at something in the lower half of his body, making him squirm in his seat. “How can we not want you? Everything you do is so goddamn hot for no reason.”
Miguel slaps Peter’s knee as a warning, since that was definitely supposed to stay unmentioned. Miles feels his face heat up at his words, along with the heat returning to his guts, arousal pooling at his stomach with such intensity that he physically has to restrain himself from making any noise.
For a second, it felt like the room was spinning. He’s suddenly awfully aware of his surroundings – of Peter’s warm breaths against the side of his neck, his hand still rubbing at his shoulder, his proximity to his own body. The warmth of Miguel’s palms on his legs has him panting, the sensation of his thumbs pressing on his inner thighs sending a shocking wave of pleasure up his spine.
“You really mean that?” His voice is so small and quiet that he’s afraid the pair won’t hear him. Of course, it turns out they’re too engrossed in his reaction that they can’t possibly do so.
“Yes.” Miguel answers without hesitation, slowly nodding his head as he thinks of a way to finish his confession. “I – we really shouldn’t think of you that way, but shock me if you aren’t the most tempting thing I’ve stumbled upon. And I’m a man of patience.”
Miles glances at them, sees the vulnerability they’re laying in his hands, and it gives him somewhat of a confidence. He tilts his head and makes himself small, lowering his gaze and avoiding eye contact. He makes sure they see him press his legs together, teasing them with the reasoning behind it.
Was it a terrible, horrible idea? Perhaps, but in all honesty Miles didn’t really care anymore. He truly can’t understand how he’s expected to control himself with Miguel and Peter verbally lusting over him, groping him all over.
“So, you guys want to fuck me, right?” It felt filthy in his mouth, but in an exciting way he wouldn’t have felt in any other situation. He almost laughs when the two men simultaneously look up at him as the question leaves his mouth, their eyes comically wide and their mouth slightly parted. “Is this just a fantasy thing or – “
Peter immediately jumps to cut him off, letting go of his shoulder and coming to face him with a serious expression. “Miles, don’t even – just no.”
“What? But why?” Miles is taken aback, genuinely confused. “I mean, if it is just a fantasy thing then I’ll leave you guys alone but – but if you’re for real, I think I’d like to try it out?”
“Was that a question or a statement, because – “ Peter begins but is quickly disrupted by Miles’ chuckle.
“I’d like to try it out.” He inhales deeply, preparing himself for the next words to leave his mouth. “I’m gonna be totally honest and like – man, you do know that I like you both, right? I’m so turned on right now it’s embarrassing. But, yeah – just so you know. It’s chill.”
He doesn’t know where the sudden confidence came from, but it does the trick. It finally sends the message he’s been practically screaming in their faces, only that it leaves them completely speechless. Miles wiggles in his seat, uneasy in the tense silence he created, realizing that he might’ve taken it too far.
What if they only enjoyed the concept of that fantasy? What if he just ruined both his relationship with them and their relationship with each other? What if –
“Miles.” Miguel whispers in a heavy tone that sends shivers down his spine, all the way to his throbbing clit. “We need you to know that if you agree to do this, we won’t be able to stop. So, if you want to tap out, if this is too much for you, this is your chance.”
Miles doesn’t hesitate to grab at one of Miguel’s hands and slide it all the way up so that it’s cupping his cunt. “Please.”
The effect is immediate. As soon as the plea leaves his mouth Miguel presses harder on his crotch, forcing a whine out of him, a noise he catches with his mouth as he surges in and kisses him. Peter helps them move to the center of the bed for him to lay comfortably, nibbling and sucking at his throat while Miguel licks into his mouth, rubbing his crotch through the suit.
“You never answered the question.” Peter groans right underneath his ear and the noise shocks him with another flash of arousal.
Miles is trembling with embarrassment at the realization that he’s so close already, his hips bucking down to meet the delicious friction Miguel’s fingers offer him. He’s whimpering into Miguel’s mouth and his hand comes up to grab Peter’s bicep and squeeze hard, making him hiss.
Then, all the attention withdraws at once. He shakes his head when Miguel pecks him one last time before backing up, whines when he loses the warmth petting his pussy. Peter comes up from his left and hovers over him – that something that Miles couldn’t decipher returns to his stare, only much more heated.
It consumes him and he feels his gaze deep in his core, as if Peter can already see the drooling mess he would soon turn into. Miles wiggles his hips, desperate to earn some kind of stimulation, but Miguel quickly brings up a hand to hold him down against the mattress.
“Miguel – “
His other comes up to hold him by the jaw and Miles instinctively turns to look at him. But that doesn’t seem to be what he intended, because then Miguel is turning his head to face Peter and keeps him there when Miles begins to struggle.
“Look at him when he talks to you, chiquito.” Miguel coos, brushing his thumb against his cheek. “Well, qué estás esperando, hm? Answer him, Miles.”
Strangely enough, Miles noticed that there was a particular intimacy between himself and Peter. He noticed it back when they first met, how Peter’s eyes would linger more than they probably should’ve. It slowly faded away over time, but only because Peter distanced himself after a while. Just as they were patching things up, his affection ceased and his eyes wouldn’t even meet his own, until they barely saw each other anymore.
Now it all comes back to him full force, and it is much stronger than it ever was back then. Miles blinks rapidly, his breaths coming to a stop, and licks his lips before he opens his mouth.
“No,” He murmurs, gasping when Peter’s hand slides down his sides and ends up on the small of his back. “I didn’t. Please, please do something.”
“You didn’t get to come, baby? Want us to make you feel good?” Peter sighs and fuck, that was so much hotter then he anticipated. He grinds down on the thigh pressing against his pussy, but he’s quickly stopped before he even gets to feel anything.
“None of that.” Miguel’s hand sneaks into the lower half of his suit, so close to where he’s aching most, but he doesn’t go any further down. “Tell us what you want us to do. Where do you want us to touch you?”
“Keep doing what you were doing.” It’s hard to talk when the air leaves his lungs with each contact of their bodies, yet he can’t help but seek more. “Keep touching me there, Miguel, please.”
He sounds so pathetic, his voice breaking when he begs. Miguel chuckles at his words and kisses him again, the gesture now short and simple. Peter lifts his hips and Miguel pulls down the spandex, a cold breeze hitting his cunt and forcing a strangled moan out of him.
They strip him out of his suit, each tug slow and calculated. Miles is practically thrashing on the sheets by the time he’s entirely naked, every bit of his skin on fire with the amount of desire rushing through his body.
“Want me to touch you here?” Miguel asks as his fingers finally stroke his entrance. Miguel tilts his head down to see where he is touching, his face in awe at the slick sticking to his fingers.
“Yes! Yes, ohmygod.” Miles cries out, blissed out.
Miguel pushes a finger in and it presses into his walls wonderfully. He’s dizzy with the satisfaction that overcomes him, his brows furrowing when his insides squeeze around the digit.
Peter is now the one to kiss him, and Miles can’t help but appreciate the differences between the two lips that devour him. Peter’s mouth is soft, his movements slow but messy, pressing against his mouth like a man starving. On the other hand, Miguel is much more calculated, his rhythm and technique changing according to Miles’ reaction. He’s cautious about his canines, even though Miles wishes he weren’t.
Miles is pouring small, breathy noises into Peter’s open mouth, his shaking arms coming up to wrap around his shoulders. Peter’s hands roam on his chest, massaging and grabbing and pinching around his swollen nipples, but never directly touching them.
“Peter, where did you put the lube?” Miguel speaks up, looking for it through the pillows.
“I don’t know.” Peter sounds drunk on Miles’ taste, completely unhelpful as he almost ignores Miguel entirely. He keeps humming and breathing into Miles, unable to let go from his body.
“Chinga tu madre, no ayudas en nada.” His voice reaches Miles’ ears as if he were under water, unclear and far away from his reach.
His mind is so preoccupied with the sensation of Peter’s hands and mouth that he doesn’t notice when Miguel pours some of the lube above his pussy. Miles makes a throaty sound when he feels it slide down his lips and towards his entrance, and curses when Miguel eases two of his thick fingers into him, slowly coating them with fluid as he pumps them in and out.
He groans and throws his head back, disconnecting from Peter’s mouth with a wet sound. Peter flutters his eyes open and hungrily watches the shine on his lips and the blush on his face.
As Miles attempts to grind on to Miguel’s fingers, Peter presses his lips on his collarbone, slowly sliding down his chest. He flattens his tongue on one of his nipples, smears salive over the skin to ease the slide of it. He then sucks it gently into his mouth, alternating between licking and nibbling.
His other hand is still avoiding the neglected nipple, holding Miles right on the edge, forcing him to anticipate it, only to never do a thing about it. Miles is panting and gasping, his eyes tightly shut as his jaw falls open.
Somewhere in the back of his mind Miles registers Peter’s erection against his backside and it’s warm and throbbing on his skin. He suddenly has the urge to grab it, to caress it against his face, to let Peter fuck his mouth. The thought alone has him spasming around the digits in his hole and with that Peter begins rubbing his cock on him, hard and leaking through his pants.
“Hey, what’s going on?” Peter is suddenly moving towards him, his hand gently holding the side of his face.
Miles doesn’t understand at first, as if he were incapable of comprehending his words because of all the sensations still actively flooding his system. He blinks up at Peter, tilts his head and furrows eyebrows in his confusion, before the question finally sinks in. As he is about to open his mouth with a response, he stumbles on his voice at one delicious thrust and a guttural sob escapes him without his consent.
“Ah, fuck.” He ends up moaning instead, his head falling forward to rest on Peter’s shoulder.
“Miles, baby.” Peter insists, urging him to focus on his voice. “You okay? Where’d you go?”
“I’m okay.” Miles breathes out, then closes his eyes for a moment in order to gather himself up. “I’m good, it’s good. Please don’t stop.”
“Yeah? Why don’t you tell us what more you want us to do?” Peter shifts so that he’s no longer sitting besides him, instead laying down and pressing himself to Miles as much as he possibly can.
Miles doesn’t get to respond because Miguel lowers his head and begins to suck on his clit, immediately turning him into a trembling mess. His fingers dig into his thighs, his fangs slightly brush on his pelvis along with his nose and upper lip. Peter buries his face into the crook of Miles’ neck, his beard prickling on his collarbone.
“That’s – mmm, Miguel, Peter – “
Miles feels himself slip, feels his muscles tensing around the head in between his legs, feels the warmth pooling in his gut. He’s suddenly unable to stop the high pitched noises coming out of his mouth, as well as the movement of his hips, which are now grinding down to meet Miguel’s face. The tension keeps rising, everything in him burns, and just as he’s about to let go he catches himself.
“Wait, wait, waitwaitwait – “ He somehow manages to cry out, doing his best to ignore the need rushing to his head. “Stop, stop, I’m close. Don’t wanna cum, please – not yet – “
Miguel brings his head up and looks at him from where he has his fingers deep in his pussy. Miles could almost come from that sight alone, his eyes widening at his messy appearance – his lips and chin are drenched with fluids, his face is tinted a pretty blush, his hair sticking to the sides of his face.
“We want you to come, nene.” He says, and his voice is mouthwateringly thick, filled with all the filthy things he’s been doing to Miles.
“I can’t, I can’t. If I come now you can’t fuck me. I’ll be too sensitive.” Miles complains with a whine, rolling his hips all the same, craving the slide of thickness inside him
“Is that so?” Miguel chuckles, removing his fingers from his pussy and wiping them on the sheets. He glances at Peter with a snarky smile and sits back. “Alright, then. How do you want to do this?”
Miles hesitates for a second. He has imagined his first time with them countless times before, both separately and together. He’d finger himself open to the thought of Miguel thrusting into his cunt while Peter stuffs his ass, as well as both cocks stretching his little pussy open, ruining him for anyone else. He’d finish to every possible scenario with the two and now finds himself indecisive because he wants to do them all at the same time, all over again.
He comes to the conclusion that it’s probably better to play it safe and goes with the easiest position.
“Can Peter be the one to…?” He licks his lips, searching for the right words. “You know. I mean, I know you both wanted to fuck me but it’s my first time and I’ve never really – “
“We’re only doing what you’re comfortable with, mi vida.” Miguel reassures him, squeezing his sticky thighs. “I’ll be fine.”
“But – “
“Nada de eso.” He insists, before glancing up to look at Peter, who’s been watching the two with an earnest expression. “I’m happy just watching, right, Peter?”
“Mhm. Don’t think we haven’t thought about that one.” He whispers, as if it were a secret. Perhaps it was, because Miguel flushes in embarrassment the very next moment.
“Peter, shut your shocking mouth – “
“You can fuck my mouth? If you want to?” Miles murmurs, sheepishly smiling as he glances between the two.
They both simultaneously come to a halt, pausing their bickering to turn their attention back to Miles. Miguel looks at him like he might’ve just offered him the moon and the stars, his features twisting around a delighted smile.
“Are you sure?” He asks anyway, apparently too thoughtful to simply take what he wants. But Miles feels the possessive press of his thumb spreading his cunt, showing him that Miguel would’ve earned his mouth regardless.
“Yes.” Miles whines, biting his lip for emphasis and hopes that he doesn’t look stupid. “Please fuck my mouth, Miguel.”
“You really know your way with words, huh, kid?” Peter kisses his neck, then sits up to take a proper look at Miles’ body. His eyes slowly shift from his spit covered nipples, to his bruised hips, down to his leaking pussy.
His hands grab each side of his torso in order to move Miles so that he’s laying horizontally, then signals at the teen to lift his hips and places a pillow underneath his stomach. Miles is left warm-faced at the realization that his ass is now propped perfectly for Peter to fuck as he pleases, his cunt barely hidden in between his legs.
He hears the sound of plastic ripping, followed by a groan as Peter rolls a condom on his aching cock. Then, he comes up to part his legs at the same time that Miguel approaches him on the other end of the bed, taking his head in his hands. Miles is lightheaded with his excitement when he finally sees Miguel’s pulsating cock in front of him and feels Peter’s own rubbing against his clit and lips, smearing fresh lube all over his cunt.
“Ready, sweetheart?” Peter asks, nudging the head of his cock against Miles’ hole. “Remember to breathe through your nose when Miguel uses your mouth, okay? If you need a break just tap him twice on his leg and he’ll stop.”
Miles nods, his head shoved into a pillow, because he feels on the brink of death whenever he sees their lust filled eyes. But of course, that won’t do.
Miguel takes a hold of his curls and pulls his head up, forcing him to look him in the eyes. Miles is first met with the leaking head of his cock, then slowly lifts up his gaze to watch Miguel. “We need verbal confirmation, chiquito.”
“Yes! I’m ready!” Miles cries out, refusing to confront Miguel’s overwhelming arousal.
“Ready for what?” The fingers holding on his hair tug at it with purpose, not so hard as to hurt him but just enough to make a point with the sting it produces in his scalp. “You have to say it, mi vida.”
Miles is left open mouthed at the roughness Miguel is handling him with, and is surprised when he sucks in a trembling breath, rocking his hips back and forth to get some friction – or perhaps to gain some more of Miguel’s treatment.
“C’mon, baby, don’t tease him like that.” Peter lets out a chuckle from where he’s kneeling behind him, his own erection now pressing in between Miles’ thighs.
“He’ll manage.” Miles doesn’t know why, but hearing them talk about him as if he’s not even there does strange things to his already twisting stomach. “Go on, Miles.”
Miles whines long and loud, wishing that Miguel would shove his length in his mouth already. “I’m ready for you to fuck me.”
But when he sees Miguel’s reaction he quickly understands that it was worth the humiliation. He looks down at him with such affection in his eyes, his jaw hanging open in a quiet groan before he rolls his lower lip into his mouth and bites on it with a trembling moan.
“That’s good, cariño. So good. Fuck.” He’s aching by the time he begins guiding the tip towards Miles’ awaiting tongue, unable to stop himself from shoving it inside when it makes contact with the warm wetness.
Miles chokes a bit at first, not anticipating the thickness of it, but quickly relaxes and inhales through his nose like Peter had told him. As Miguel starts gently thrusting in and out of his mouth, Miles presses his lips harder around him and gives an experimental suck. Upon hearing Miguel curse in response, he tries it again, this time accompanied by the firmness of his tongue.
Miles is so focused on the length invading his throat that he’s forgotten about the cock grinding against his feverish pussy. He feels himself spasming around Miguel when Peter finally pushes in, the slide of it deliciously pressing on his sweet spots.
“Hmm, so tight.” Peter kisses the back of his neck as he settles inside him, his hands gripping hard at his hips. “Shit, we could’ve been doing this so long ago.”
Miles whimpers, wholeheartedly agreeing with that statement, and then cries out when Miguel thrusts a bit deeper into him, grinding against the back of his mouth, throwing his head back at the vibrations of his voice.
“Go easy on him, okay, baby?” Peter glances up at Miguel with a crooked smile, one that rapidly leaves his lips when he finally begins moving inside of Miles’ cute little cunt. “God, you’re unreal, sweetheart. So perfect. Can’t believe you’re letting us do this to you.”
Peter keeps mouthing at his nape as he picks up the pace, alternating between moving back and forth and staying deep inside him, simply grinding at the bundle of nerves that makes Miles sob. On the other hand Miguel has taken the cock out of his mouth, now lazily rubbing it on Miles’ cheek, spreading precum all over his flushed skin.
With his mouth empty Miles is able to make as much noise as he pleases. He takes a deep breath, his eyes swelled with unshed tears at the pleasure buzzing in both his ends. Chants of short, pathetic sounds spill out of him, most of them sounding like weak attempts at Miguel and Peter’s names.
“Peter – “ Miles gasps, his back arching as Peter keeps filling him just right. “Faster, go faster please.”
Miles tightens his legs together, trying to starve off the heat in his stomach, but Peter sees right through his pitiful attempt and tightens his grip in order to pull his body back onto his cock, instead of doing the thrusting himself. It’s such a subtle change but it has Miles thrashing at the sheets with the thought of Peter using him like a fleshlight.
“Close already?” Peter teases against the line of his ear, his hips fulfilling Miles’ wishes almost instantly. “You’re pretty pussy is so tight on my cock, holy shit. You’re taking it so good. That’s it, just like that.”
Miles is unable to form words at that point, his eyes rolling to the back of his head, heat pooling at his gut as Peter’s tip is hitting his walls at the perfect angle. He feels the wave of an orgasm approaching – his muscles are tensing, his body is rushing to meet Peter’s movements, his moans slowly shifting to short, breathy whines that escape his mouth without permission.
“Is Peter making you feel good?” Miguel sighs, working a hand up and down his cock, lubing himself to make the slide easier on Miles’ throat. “I bet he does, hm? Just like he promised. Mierda – Abre la boca, nene.”
“Yeah, Miguel.” Peter groans, reaching out to hold Miguel’s forearms. “Miles can take it, just enjoy it.”
He guides Miguel’s hand, moves from caressing Miles’ jaw to forcing his mouth open, and suddenly Miguel’s cock is being shoved back into his slack mouth, drool hanging from his lips and chin. Miles instinctively closes his eyes, his brows furrowing and his hands coming up to hold at Miguel’s thighs, clinging to grab at something, anything, while both his holes are stuffed and ruined.
“Baby, baby, you’re doing so well.” Peter groans, sneaking a hand underneath Miles’ body to rub at his clit. Miles almost shakes his head in protest but is quickly reminded that he can’t by the length fucking his mouth. “You’re so fucking wet. You wanna be a good boy and cum, Miles?”
“Peter,” Miguel sighs and Miles is almost sure that his hips somewhat stutter. “Por dios, stop talking.”
At that, he is practically obligated to give some kind of response because Peter’s praise feels so good and it mixes deliciously with the wet sounds of his cunt. He opens his eyes and attempts to plead with Miguel, however, he doesn't even know what he’s begging for.
“But he likes it!” Peter chuckles when Miles eagerly tries to nod his head. “See?”
He’s is terribly embarrassed about how close he already is, but between watching the two men fuck and having been fingered for fifteen minutes, he figures that they can’t really blame him for wanting to finish so badly. It doesn’t help that Peter is just petting his clit, as if waiting to see how long it takes for him to break.
He suddenly jerks with a white flash of pleasure, but quickly denies himself before he’s entirely pushed over the edge. He slaps Miguel twice on his leg, too preoccupied with his upcoming orgasm to worry about the force he’s putting into it. Miguel doesn’t hesitate to grab at his hair again, only now he tugs on it to get him off his cock.
“Too much?” Miguel asks, concern coating the thickness of his accent. Once he sees Miles’ face it vanishes and is instantly replaced with appreciation.
“I’m so – I’m too close!” Miles shakes his head and his body melts into the sheets, his arms collapsing as he buries his face in the pillow. “Wasn’t gonna – ah, fuuuck – didn’t want to – to hurt you. I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”
Miguel is smiling, overwhelmed with the need to cherish his little boy, who was so eager to please him despite being deprived of his own enjoyment. He guesses that if Miles were to come while sucking on his cock he would’ve been too inexperienced to restrain himself from sucking excessively or biting down.
“Don’t apologize, chiquito.” He lowers himself to kiss the top of Miles’ head. “You’re so thoughtful. How about a reward from Peter, hm? How does that sound?”
At Miles’ enthusiastic nod, both Peter and Miguel detach themselves from his body and the cock filling his pussy begins to pull out of him. Miles is sure they’re playing some cruel joke on him and the tears finally fall from the corner of his eyes, his legs holding a death grip around Peter as he begs him to stay inside.
“No, no, nonono.” His body is so exhausted he’s barely able to pull his head up from the covers. “Peter, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, don’t pull out, please. Don’t – Stay inside.”
Miguel and Peter share a look before they’re all over him again, reassuring him between pecks and kisses and nibbles. In an attempt to soothe him Peter begins thrusting again and the effect is immediate – Miles pushes back to meet him halfway, still babbling incoherent strings of words.
“Nene, we’re gonna move you to lay on your back,” Miguel whispers into his mouth as they share a sweet kiss. “And then Peter is going to fuck you until you come, alright? Don’t worry your little head about it.”
Only then, Miles unclenches his thighs and allows Peter to pull out properly. They carefully turn him over, Peter positioning his hips to lay on the pillow that was underneath him, while Miguel takes another to place under his head.
Miles is sucking in short breaths, his chest stuttering with the fresh tears decorating his blushing cheeks. Miguel takes pity on him and massages his clit while Peter readjustes the condom that had slightly slipped off of his cock. He’s whispering sweet nothings into his ear, gently warming up the fresh lube he applies on his pussy.
You can never be too sure, right?
“You’re so patient, sweety.” Peter purrs, grazing his teeth along Miles’ jaw. Miles whimpers when he feels the small stubbles of his beard, the rough surface grazing the sensitive skin of his neck. “Gonna make you cum so hard.”
This time Peter fucks him with the sole intent to make him come. He doesn’t wait for him to get comfortable around the stretch of his cock, instead pushing all the way in and staying there, grinding the same way that brought Miles so close to finishing.
“M’leg.” Miles breathes out, struggling to find the air that his burning lungs are searching for.
“What was that, sweetheart?” Peter is visibly disoriented by the mere effort of trying to focus on anything but the warm tightened of Miles’ pussy palpitating around his cock.
“His leg, bebe, put it up.” Miguel chuckles, his hand working on himself as he watches the two.
Peter swallows and takes hold of Miles’ calf, slowly easing it up onto his shoulder. The angle allows him to push deeper, resulting in a satisfied sigh from the teen, who pushes down at the delicious heat filling him up.
As he starts moving again, Miles brings his hands up to hold Peter’s forearms and digs into his skin until he almost draws blood. He’s reduced back to a drooling mess of breathy, little noises, his head thrown back into the pillows.
“Please, pleasepleaseplease. Wanna – Ah, wanna cum, please!”
Peter groans in response and does as Miles wishes. He fucks him fast and sloppy, not because he felt the need to be aggressive, not even because he was chasing his own orgasm, he only did so because Miles had asked for it and he’ll give him everything he wants without hesitation.
“You wanna come on my cock, baby?” Peter teases in a low voice, fingers squeezing around the leg on his shoulder. “Want me to make you feel good? Let go, sweetheart, you did good.”
“Peter, yes! Ah, ah – “
Miles cries out when a rough hand touches his swollen clit, working him through the pleasure that washes over him. And then finally, finally the warmth overcomes him and a wave of satisfaction crashes on him. His mouth is open in a silent moan, his chest is heaving, and his entire body is trembling as Peter keeps fucking him through it. The fulfillment he feels scratches such a deep itch inside him that for a few moments he suspects he might black out.
He doesn’t. Peter keeps thrusting into him, moaning and panting into his neck, his cock jerking against Miles’ sore walls until he finally finishes and fucks into Miles’ pussy with the warm sensation of his cum filling up the condom.
When he opens his eyes – when did he get to close them? – He sees the mouthwatering sight of both Miguel and Peter’s flushed faces looking down at him. They’re wearing similar expressions; half lidded eyes, shuddered breaths escaping their lips, a hungry gaze examining the mess they turned him into.
Miles is still twitching from the overwhelming orgasm, which Peter seemed to have recovered from, because he’s already moving to carefully pull out. He almost protests when he silently slides out of bed, but eventually relaxes into the sheets and allows him to go.
Peter walks over to the bathroom and takes care of the condom, as well as wiping himself down, then starts looking for a clean washcloth to clean Miguel and Miles too.
“You did very well.” Miguel wipes sweat off of his forehead with the blanket. He lowers himself to sweetly peck his mouth as he begins rubbing circles on his heaving, sensitive chest. “Estas bien?”
Miles nods slowly, smiling into Miguel’s lips. He’s suddenly aware of the spurt of fluid on his stomach, and his hips jump at the realization that Miguel has grown soft next to him.
He almost cries again, only this time he’s not so sure why. He feels such an overwhelming sense of want and need, as if Miguel and Peter didn’t just fuck him into the best orgasm of his life merely two minutes ago. But he can’t help the desire he is feeling, a craving for another kind of affection.
It’s a difficult feeling to ignore, so naturally, he doesn’t.
“Don’t lie to me, Miles.” Miguel whispers, sensing the ache that the teen is struggling with. When he sees that Miles is not intending on responding, he sighs deeply and moves to caress his face instead. “I’m probably going to regret saying anything but… Peter really cares for you. The only reason he ever pulled away from you was because of this.”
Miles almost chokes on his spit upon hearing that. “Are you tryna say this was a mistake or something? Because that is so shitty, man.”
“No!” Miguel exclaims, before he catches the aggressive tone in his voice and settles back down. “Will you let me finish? That is not what I meant. And I had a great time, so I’m hoping you did too. What I’m actually trying to say, is that he loved every second of it and it’s eating him from the inside. It has been for a while. He probably would’ve felt better if it were strictly sexual.”
“You’re lying to me. There’s no way.” Miles states, knowing well that Miguel is not a person that would joke about that. Or in general.
“I can assure you that I am not.”
Before Miles gets to respond, or even react, Peter walks back into the room, properly cleaned up and holding wet cloth in his hands. He sits on the edge of the bed as he opens Miles’ legs again, gently cleaning him up. Miles watches, conflicted between ripping the towel from his grasp and just allowing Peter to take care of him.
Eventually he opts for the latter. After Peter rubs the fluids off of Miles’ body, he shifts in order to give the same treatment to Miguel, who throws him a fond look, followed by an appreciative press of lips.
“That’s good, Peter. Thank you.” Miguel murmurs against him. Peter chuckles, throwing the cloth somewhere on the floor and then returns for Miguel’s mouth when he groans in annoyance.
“I wanna date you. Both of you.” Miles blurts out, desperately hoping that he had read the signs right.
But then they disconnect with a wet noise and simultaneously turn to stare at him. Was he wrong? Did he get in over his head and just assumed they both had romantic feelings for him? Miguel was the one who told about it, so why was he taken aback?
Miles kept scanning their faces, his eyes jumping from one surprised face to the other. Miguel is looking at him like what he had said was unexpected, his brows hiding behind a messy fringe, but he wasn’t exactly judging. Peter, on the other hand, looked like he might’ve just seen Miles die and come back to the living. His eyes were wide, his pupils dilated, his mouth twisted into a frown.
When Miles couldn’t take it any longer, he pierced through the silence with a throaty sound. “I mean, if you’ll have me? Because I really like you and I kinda want this to be more than just a one time thing. But like, I also want more, you know? I wanna cuddle and go out and stuff. Wait – “ He retracts for a short moment. “Wait, are you two already dating? Am I intruding or something – “
“Miles,” Peter interrupts him, a smile tugging on his lips. “Sweetheart. How are you this perfect?”
“Huh?”
“Of course we’ll have you.” His voice is soft with the excitement it holds, and he grips onto Miles’ hands as if they were too precious for his touch. “But let’s figure that out later, okay? As much as I enjoyed this, the only reason I even lasted a second round was because I couldn’t pass on fucking you, baby.”
Miguel grimaces at his crude wording, pulling up the blanket to cover himself and Miles. “Peter, shut up and go the shock to sleep.”
“Got it.”